


Not Jack

by vickjawn (awshitzombies)



Series: Not Jack [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Growth/Healing, Consent Issues, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-consensual surgery, Sexual Content, Story Telling/Flashbacks, Suicidal Thoughts, drug and alcohol abuse, torture elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 75
Words: 297,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5405723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awshitzombies/pseuds/vickjawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after the events of the Holodome DLC for The Pre-Sequel. When Axton and Gaige bring a scarred, Eridium-addicted Timothy Lawrence back to Sanctuary, he agrees to tell his story, from the moment Athena left him in Jack's hands on Helios to the very last thing he remembered before waking up in the Crimson Raiders HQ. After that, it's a matter of healing and coming to terms with what happened to him at the hands of Hyperion, but that's a long, dangerous road to trek down, both mentally and physically. Friends new and old are there to help him, but they can't hold his hand forever. With the threat of a war looming on the horizon and Hyperion gaining wind of Timothy's location, it's only a matter of time before things take a turn for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance." - Richard von Weizsaecker

“...and then you took out the Sentinel in one giant fiery explosion of death and blood and gore!” Gaige made a vaguely-sounding explosion noise and rattled the table in front of her with her knees for an added special effect. Behind her Death Trap echoed the noise as best as it could, given that it didn't have a mouth and only seemed to be able to purr or beep.

“Sure,” Athena said, amused. As farfetched as their retelling of her story was, she had to admit that it was nice hearing someone else telling it for once. Three times had definitely been her limit.

“Cool story, bro,” Axton told her, grinning like a giddy little kid as he leaned back in his seat. “Sounds like one hell of a ride. Glad I wasn't a part of it, though.”

If only she had been so lucky. She had enjoyed the combat and the loot, of course, but the end results hadn't sat well with her at all - hence her telling Jack to stuff it, keep his money, and never contact her again. That day should have been a good one, she mused. But things were never simple.

There came a knock on the threshold, drawing Athena back to the present. Mordecai was standing there with a bottle of rakk ale dangling from his gloved hand.

“Yo, kids,” he slurred, nodding at Axton and Gaige. “Lilith’s back from Overlook and wants an explanation for the prisoner you brought in.”

Both Gaige and Axton reacted with equal amounts of eye-rolling and quiet groaning before they got up and began to follow after the sniper. They dragged their feet like two kids on their way to the principal’s office.

“Prisoner?” Athena echoed as she too stood up and began to follow them out the door. With nothing else to do around town, she figured it wouldn’t hurt if she tagged along.

“Yeah, Lilith sent us to pick up the Sheriff of Lynchwood yesterday,” Gaige explained as they made their way upstairs. “We tried to convince her to come with us, but she was definitely not down for that.”

Athena frowned. She knew Lilith was in the process of trying to gather all of the vault hunters she could find to help fight in this supposed "war" that was looming on the horizon. Wilhelm was dead, Claptrap as worthless as ever. The only female vault hunter Athena knew of off the top of her head was Nisha.

“This sheriff...you mean Nisha?” she hazzard a guess. The woman _did_ radiate that western vibe. After what happened on Elpis, though, it was hard to believe that Lilith was desperate enough to ask _her_ for help. Nisha was just as bad as Jack had been.

“Yeah,” Axton said. “She wasn't about to come with us alive, though, so we didn't really have any choice but to kill her.” He sent Athena a mildly apologetic look. “Kill or be killed – that kinda situation. I'd say I was sorry, but she was bein' a pain in the ass and talkin' about how she killed Brick's dog in front of him. That ain't cool.”

Gaige made a disgruntled noise. “She deserved it. Who kills puppies?”

“Mean people,” Axton mumbled.

“Mean people,” Gaige agreed solemnly.

Athena made no move to correct the duo. Nisha had been her comrade and saved her ass as many times as Athena had hers, but they had parted ways rather nastily.

“So who's being interrogated if it's not her?” she asked them as they stepped inside the meeting room.

Brick, Mordecai, and Lilith were already there and looking more irritated that they usually did. The cause of their aggravation was currently slouched in a chair in the middle of the room behind them.

Athena stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the man's face. Or, rather, the familiar mask he was currently wearing over his face. It wasn't strictly unusual to see a Handsome Jack mask out in the wild - at this point, Athena didn't doubt that you could buy one for Bloody Harvest. But she couldn't shake the sudden pit that had opened up in her stomach at the sight.

Lilith turned and glowered at Axton and Gaige. “Does this look like Nisha to you?” she demanded, gesturing to the man in the chair.

“Calm down, Lilith,” Axton said, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “Nisha decided she'd rather wind up full of bullet holes than come with us alive. There was nothing we could do.”

“All right,” the siren said thinly, “but then who's this? And don't tell me a Handsome Jack body double. That much is obvious. Why didn't you off him instead of drag him all the way back here?”

"It ain't obvious? He clearly ain't a normal dude."

Athena grew closer and saw what the commando was getting at. The guy's hands were stained purple - strikingly similar to the Dahl soldiers on Elpis that had been abandoned and exposed to Eridium.

"We wounded the Sheriff," Gaige explained, "and she called him out as backup. Ax shot him in the face, blew a hole through the top of his skull..." She trailed off and gestured to the man. "As you can see, he recovered quite nicely."

Indeed, the only strange markings on the man's face was a purple swirl that drifted up from behind the mask and disappeared up into his hairline. Athena wanted to remove the mask, but a part of her was afraid of what she might find.

"Has he been like this the whole time?" she found herself asking. The man hadn’t moved an inch since she walked into the room. Not even a blink, though that may have just been the mask.

"Since Nisha died," Gaige replied, shrugging. "The second she conked out, he just stopped moving. It’s the only reason why we were able to drag him back here.”

Axton hummed in agreement. “My guess? That collar's got somethin' to do with it."

The gladiator turned her gaze onto the strange contraption clinging to the man's throat. Through the small transparent windows in the tubes, she could see a small amount of purple liquid - Eridium. It was nothing like she had ever seen, and the sight of it worried her. In her experience, humans and raw Eridium did not mix.

"Sorta looks like the thing Jack slapped on Lilith to get her to obey him," Mordecai pointed out, peering at the collar.

"That’s what I thought, too,” Gaige agreed. “Only a much older model and clearly a lot more dangerous, judging by how awful the skin around it looks. Gross."

"Let me see it," Lilith said, pushing the younger girl aside. She gently tugged the collar downwards, exposing as much skin as possible. The flesh around the ring was inflamed and glowing the brightest of all the infected portions of the man's body. Just looking at it made Athena's eyes hurt and her stomach churn.

"Goddamn," Lilith muttered. "Looks like the thing is literally attached to his flesh with needles."

She moved behind the man and gingerly tilted his head down so that she could better see the back of his neck. As she did so, the others tensed up and pointed their guns at the man just in case he decided to snap out of his coma.

"It's connected to his spine," Lilith confirmed, stepping away. Her face was twisted with irritation. "Man, at least with my collar, it had been the constant stream of excruciating pain that had kept me relatively obedient, not like, literal mind control."

"Can we remove it?" Athena asked.

"I don't know. We can try, but there's no guarantee he won't die from it." She shrugged. "We won't be getting any information out of him if he bites it, but we sure as hell aren't going to with him in this state. I say we give it a go."

"Has anyone tried giving him an order?" Mordecai asked suddenly. "Shouldn't we try that before potentially killing him?"

"He obeyed the Sheriff of Lynchwood down to the littlest detail, but wouldn't listen to Gaige or me," Axton reported. "I'm assuming he can only answer to her or Handsome Jack."

"Well, neither of them are alive anymore," Brick gritted out. "So I vote we rip the thing off him."

"That would _definitely_ kill him," Mordecai said, shaking his head. He looked at the man and asked, "Hey amigo, tell us who you answer to."

To their surprise, the man replied in Handsome Jack's voice. "I answer only to Handsome Jack, the coolest and most handsome CEO of Hyperion and ruler of Pandora," he said methodically, like he was reading lines off a cue card, "and Nisha, the Sheriff of Lynchwood, the hottest and most lethal bandit killer this side of the galaxy."

After a beat in which they all just stared at the man, Gaige made a gagging noise while the other half of the room looked thoroughly unimpressed.

"Okay," Mordecai drawled, "next question: are we sure this guy isn't a robot that just _looks_ like Jack?"

Athena snorted. "Jack wouldn't spend money on something like that when he could easily just enlist some fool to play the part," she said.

"Well, if this guy has any answers for us, we're not going to be getting them so long as he's got that thing around his neck," Lilith pointed out. "Let's get to work."

Any attempts at breaking the glass containing the Eridium were met with failure, mostly because downright shooting it or hacking away at it with blades was deemed too dangerous, even by their semi-professional hands. They found a hinge on the right side of the device, but it took them a while to find the crease on the left that would theoretically allow them to crack the thing open. Lilith and Athena broke their nails trying to pry it open, and Axton nearly stabbed the man in the neck trying to jimmy the thing open with his pocket knife.

"Shouldn't we call Dr. Zed?" Gaige asked worriedly after some time had passed.

"If I wasn't afraid he'd try to take the dude’s head off in the midst of trying to remove this thing, he'd already be here," Lilith said through her teeth. "If he starts going into cardiac arrest, I'll consider calling him. For now – oh, got it!"

The device hissed as it was split open and proceeded to dribble Eridium all over the man and the floor as it drained out of the needles. The man took a shuddering breath as the device was completely pulled from him. At once his body slumped in the chair, as if the Eridium was the only thing keeping him up.

"Thank you," he whimpered, slowly hunching over. “Oh, god, thank you...”

Something jabbed Athena between her ribs as realization slowly began to dawn on her. The man had scarcely said two words, yet that and his body language were enough to jostle something in her memory.

The man’s shaking hands came up to paw at the Handsome Jack mask stapled to his face. The shaking grew worse as he managed to get his nails underneath the strange material.

“Whoa, hold up, bro,” Axton blurted, moving to stop him. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that - "

The man tore the mask off, bolts and all, and hurled it to the ground at his feet with an anguished yell. Athena and the others gaped at his exposed face, at the jagged, familiar brand skating up and down his sallow cheekbones. The whites of his eyes, even the blind one, were stained a bright purple, to the point where they were basically glowing. Most startlingly, at least for Athena, was the fact that the area where the bolts had been embedded in his skull were healing rapidly, leaving no sign that there had ever been anything there.

“Timothy,” Athena gasped, too stunned to say anything else as her suspicions were confirmed.

The same could not be said for the room’s other occupants, who immediately slipped into defensive mode upon seeing Jack’s face beneath the mask. Gaige squealed as Axton drew his pistol. Mordecai fumbled for his blade as Brick cracked his knuckles and took several steps forward.

"Stop, stop! That's not who you think it is!" Athena exclaimed, moving to stand between Timothy and the others. "He's just a body double. The first one Jack made - a literal body double."

“Your point?” Brick snapped.

Lilith raised her hand, signaling everyone to stand down. "The one who assisted you in finding the Vault on Elpis, right?"

Athena nodded. "If there's one person who didn't deserve any of the garbage that came from working for Jack, it's him."

With a violent jerk, Timothy vomited what looked like small portions of liquid Eridium into his lap. The puncture areas around his neck were oozing the stuff too, like his body was trying vehemently to reject it in any way possible. Even the tears streaming down his cheeks were glistening with the mineral.

"Timothy," Athena said, trying to catch the kid's gaze. She was hesitant to touch him. "Timothy, are you all right?"

"'Thena?" Timothy groaned, his head lolling with pain. “It hurts.”

"I'm here. What hurts?"

"Everything," he answered through gritted teeth. He was becoming more and more tense with each passing second. "My skin's burning - "

"Move over," Lilith ordered, pushing Athena aside. "Maybe I can absorb some of the Eridium from him."

She placed her hands around Timothy's oozing neck, only to recoil violently when the kid let out a pained scream and arched away from her grasp. His eyes flashed purple as he thrashed in his seat.

Lilith whirled on the others, wide-eyed and speechless. They could only shrug helplessly in response, Athena included. She knew next to nothing about the mineral, other than what it could do to someone if they were exposed to it for an extended period of time. Abruptly she remembered the Lost Legion - the mutated soldiers they had to fight through in order to get to the Vault - and felt her blood turn to ice. His tinted skin, glowing eyes - it all made sense now.

“Jack wanted to turn him into a drone,” she blurted, eyes widening with a mixture of disgust and terror. “Just like the Lost Legion soldiers.”

“Those freaky infected dudes you mentioned?” Axton asked, arching a brow in surprise. “Why the hell would Jack want to do that?”

“They were powerful. I mean, half of them could sprout wings and fly if they ascended. They were...” Athena trailed off for a second as a quick shudder jolted through her spine. “They were also determined. They were given a cause and they stuck with it to the end - no questions asked.”

The commando folded his arms across his broad chest. “Okay, so Jack got the obedient part down, but this kid sure as hell wasn't flappin' any wings around Lynchwood,” he said, frowning. “Shit, the more he came at us, the more sluggish he got - like he was losing energy with each bullet we put in him or somethin’.”

“And we put a _lot_ of bullets in him,” Gaige added.

“Maybe the process didn't work out quite as Jack planned?” Mordecai offered. “How did the soldiers mutate again?”

“They were exposed to the mineral for a long time,” Athena replied. “I'm sure Jack knew more about it and built that damn collar trying to replicate the process.”

Still, even if he did have explicit knowledge on the subject, mass-producing a robot army and experimenting on people with slag, a man made element, was a far cry from purposefully manipulating someone's body and blood into something remotely similar to the creatures roaming around Eleseer. There were bound to be issues, especially if Timothy was the first test subject.

“We should ask that alien thing the next time it shows up,” Mordecai suggested to Lilith. “Y'know, if it comes back.”

The siren rolled her eyes. “Oh, I'm sure it will,” she groused, apparently still bitter about not getting to execute Athena thanks to that guardian. “In the meantime, Mr. Comatose here needs to have the rest of the Eridium flushed from his system.”

"And how do we do that?" Athena asked. Something told her she wasn't going to like what Lilith had to say, and a moment later her fears were justified.

"Throw him in a cell downstairs and wait for it to leave his body naturally. If he’s losing strength like you said, it shouldn’t take too long."

"Seriously?" Axton mumbled. "We're gonna make him go cold turkey? Won't that kill him like it killed that poor kid Angel?"

Lilith shrugged. "I dunno. Angel was a siren. This guy's just human, right?"

“Is he?” Mordecai asked warily. “I mean, from what you told us of the Lost Legion, they were hardly human anymore. No offense, but your friend here looks like shit.”

He wasn't wrong. Timothy had fallen still over the course of their frantic conversation, but his chest was still rising and falling with alarming frequency. The skin on his clenched hands was frothing with Eridium energy – so much of it that it was beginning to melt the arms of the chair.

“Timothy?” Athena asked quietly, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

Suddenly the double was up and racing for the door faster than anyone anticipated. Lilith erupted into her own blast of orange as she phased, and literally a split second later she tackled Timothy to the ground just inches from the door. He didn't take lightly to that and bent his back like a bow. With a jerk, he sent the siren flying backwards with a ripple of purple energy that made the entire building shudder and groan. Lilith slammed into Gaige, and both women crumpled into a furious, shrieking heap.

“Grab him, Brick!” Lilith yelled.

The berserker was already halfway there. He snagged the guy by the back of his tattered coat and drew him into a headlock. The look on Timothy's face was horrifying; he didn't look enraged or spastic, just blank. His eyes were wide and frothing with so much Eridium that it was dripping down his cheeks. It was leaking from the corners of his mouth as well, no doubt from the substantial pressure on his throat thanks to Brick's insane grip.

Athena blinked, and suddenly Timothy was halfway across the room, a few feet from Mordecai, who let out a surprised yell and stumbled backwards. Brick let out a similar noise when he realized he had nothing in his grasp anymore and whirled around to face the Eridium-charged man.

Mordecai lashed out with his blade, catching Timothy across the chest, but the wound healed almost the same instance that it formed, leaving behind no evidence of the attack other than the gash in his shirt. Timothy dodged away from him, almost rushing into Axton, but the commando grabbed him and hurled him over his shoulder, crashing him through a console that sparked and buzzed with complaint over the abuse. Timothy was up almost immediately, his white eyes streaming with power alongside his tears.

Ice settled in Athena's gut, sharp and heavy. He wasn't trying to hurt them, she realized. He was trying to get them to _see_.

She moved towards him just as Gaige distracted Timothy with a hammer to the back of his head. As he turned to face the seething teenager, Athena plunged her sword through his back. It sliced through his lung, broke through his ribs, and slid out of his chest with a shower of blood and visceral. Timothy made the worst noise Athena had ever heard him make, jerked twice, then fell limp, his head lolling against his neck as he gaped down at the weapon. His hands came up to paw at the steel, but the blade remained firmly lodged through his torso until Athena put a hand on his shoulder and jerked it out of him.

Timothy stumbled but didn't fall, and the whole room watched, mute, as the wound knitted itself back together in a span of five seconds.

With gritted teeth, Athena stabbed him again, then again. Each time she ran him through, he made an awful, sad noise, and each time she withdrew her blade, his wound healed up. It was around the fifth strike that her theory was proven to be true: with each stab, it took him longer and longer to heal. He was running out of power.

She aimed her last attack for the base of his spine, hoping that it would be enough to disable him for the time being. Slashing through his spinal cord gave him no choice but to collapse face-first onto the floor.

He didn’t try to get up, but the others tackled him anyway. Brick put his massive hands on Timothy's shoulders, keeping him pinned down, while Axton sat on the kid's legs and proceeded to cuff his hands behind his back. By the time they were done, Timothy's spine had healed, but he made no move to attack them again. The glow on his skin and in his eyes was noticeably dimmer now, and he was no longer dripping Eridium from his orifices. Athena didn't know if she should be relieved or worried about that.

Lilith heaved an annoyed sigh and brushed her hands off on her pants. "Take him downstairs to the holding cells," she said. "This is gonna take a while."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	2. Chapter 2

Going cold turkey from Eridium was just like detoxing from hardcore drugs, they learned over the next couple of days. From the depths of the makeshift jail in the Crimson Raiders HQ, Timothy howled and screamed and roared like the goddamn Sentinel was tearing his skin from his bones strip by strip.

Turns out that assumption wasn't too far off. Apparently not having Eridium in your body after being chock full of it for years would cause a person to lose their goddamn mind and start ripping the flesh off their arms with their own teeth.

Several stitches, bandages, and two pairs of steel-reinforced handcuffs later, Timothy could do nothing more than scream himself hoarse and roll around harmlessly on the floor of his tiny cell. Sometimes he would furiously screech Jack's name, damning him and everything he worked for, other times he would wail and cry for his mother, for his sisters, for people Athena didn't know. Usually it was just wordless nonsense and sobs that echoed throughout Sanctuary. Athena hated those sounds the most.

On the second day, Timothy began to call for her. Hearing her own name spilling from the bowels of HQ haunted her to the point that she found herself heading down there that evening. She wasn't sure why; Timothy was impossible to talk to in such a state.

"Athena!" Timothy howled. "Athena! This is your fault!"

That made her stumble to a halt.

"You left me up there! You told me to come with you and then you abandoned me! You knew what he was going to do to me and you left anyway! How _could_ you?"

She hesitantly made her way over to his prison cell and leaned against the door. Through the small barred window she saw the kid lying on his side and kicking uselessly at the floor - an uncontrollable tic that replaced gnawing the skin off his hands. His angry, purple-gray eyes were glaring daggers up at her as he spat her name again like a curse. Purple-tinted drool hung from his lips.

"I thought it was too late," Athena told him quietly. "He had you dragged off and promised to have you put on ice soon after. I thought there was nothing more I could do - "

"You said," he snarled, "you _said_ that you always finish a job. But you can't even keep a promise to a friend! You promised me I would be okay! You _promised_ to get me out of there! You're a liar and a terrible person and I _hate_ you!"

Athena bowed her head. "You're right," she agreed softly. "I'm so sorry, Timothy."

"Sorry won't fix anything. Sorry won't make up for what happened, for what he made me do, for what he did to me! Take your sorry and shove it up your ass!"

"I understand," Athena murmured, taking a step back from the door. Something jabbed her steadily between her ribs, making it hard to breathe. But this small annoyance - it was _nothing_ compared to the pain Timothy was going through. She deserved to feel much worse.

“Don't – don't go,” came Timothy's small voice from the cell. The viciousness was suddenly gone, replaced by the voice of a scared young man – the man she had abandoned on Helios five years ago. “Don't leave me alone. Athena? Athena, please, please let me out. I'll be good, I'll be good, sir, please, _please_...!”

She kept slowly backpedaling until she reached the foot of the stairs. Timothy's cries escalated into more frantic screaming until he was back to howling his usual string of litanies and curses.

On the morning of the fourth day, Sanctuary was quiet. Ironically, that alarmed Athena more than Timothy's screams, which was why she found herself thundering down the stairs into the prison cell area at the crack of dawn. She all but threw herself at his cell door, simultaneously excited and terrified to see what state Timothy was in.

He was lying curled up on his side in the middle of the tiny cell, facing away from her. Athena chewed on her bottom lip until she saw Timothy's back slowly expanding with each breath he took. Still alive, but in what condition? She couldn't see his face to determine if he was still frothing with Eridium.

Athena stood there with her face pressed against the barred window for far too long, imagining all sorts of terrible things wrong with the kid, when the sound of footsteps on the stairs finally dragged her attention away from him. She turned to see the commando descending the staircase.

"All quiet on the western front?" he slurred as he scrubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Strangely, yes," Athena answered. "I wonder if he's finally detoxed."

"Maybe," Axton said as he shuffled past her to peer into the cell. "Might keep him here for another day to be on the safe side. None of us know a damn thing about Eridium addiction, at least to this extreme."

Athena grunted in agreement as she moved to sit on one of the benches that lined the wall. She felt older than she was and tired beyond words, and it must have shown in her posture because Axton came over and gave her a hearty pat on the shoulder.

"He'll be fine," he offered, sounding so confident that Athena almost believed him. "Dude helped you fight a vault boss thing, right?"

"Yes," Athena said. There was no doubt that he was strong, but he wasn't a soldier. He wasn't even from a planet where murder was the norm. He was just some broke college kid trying to pay off a loan. And he hardly saw anything he made, she remembered suddenly. Everything he made went straight to his mother's bank account.

She shut her eyes. "He didn't deserve anything he went through," she continued quietly. "Least of all getting turned into a mind controlled Eridium junkie."

Guilt had seized her since she first saw what Jack had turned the poor kid into, and now it was beginning to crush her like a two ton weight. Morbid thoughts gripped her just as hard. She could have stopped it, she knew. She could have ended it before it even began. But she hadn’t, and now Timothy had suffered terribly for her cowardice.

Axton hummed, neither in agreement nor disbelief. "Well, good luck convincin' Lilith not to off him after that shit he pulled a few days ago. I got nothin' against him, but you know how Lilith gets when someone kicks her ass."

Before Athena could respond to that, a weak voice called out from the cell in front of them:

"Um, hello out there?"

Athena jerked to her feet, startled by the sound of Timothy's voice. It was rough and hoarse, but she could identify that wary tone anywhere.

She pressed her face to the window. The kid was sitting upright in the middle of the cell looking haggard beyond words, but he perked up when he saw her.

"A-Athena?" he whispered, stunned. His shock wore off quickly enough, leaving him a shaking wreck as he stumbled to his feet and brought his gaunt face to the barred window. "Athena! Oh, it - it's so good to see you."

Athena had wondered if he would remember anything he said or did while in the throes of detoxing, and apparently the answer was no. She had no doubt he’d be blubbering apologies for all the nasty things he said to her if he remembered saying them.

Timothy’s elation drained out of him when Athena made no move to say anything. "Wh-where am I? Why am I in jail?" he asked. He sucked in a rapid breath. "Did I do something bad?"

Athena whirled on Axton and ordered, "Open the cell."

The commando hesitated. "I should probably get Lilith first."

"Fine, go get her. I want him out of there."

Axton threw his hands up in surrender and retreated upstairs, grumbling and cursing as he went.

"Um, why are my arms bound?" Timothy asked hesitantly. He peered up at her through tired, wary eyes, the white of the functioning one now a soft, purple-gray shade. The skin around his eyes was still stained a jagged purple, but at least it was no longer glowing.

"What do you remember?" she asked him softly.

He bit his lip. "Not...not much," he said slowly. "I-I think you were trying to take the collar off? And now..." He trailed off, confused. "Here I am now, tied up in a jail cell. Did I try to hurt you?"

"Er, no, but..."

Before Athena could elaborate, Lilith, Brick, Axton, and Gaige came jogging down the steps, all practically tripping over each other on the way down. 

Lilith didn't bother to unlock the door to the cell Timothy was in; she phased through it, making him squeal in shock as she suddenly appeared inside, and then they were both vanishing and reappearing in the room with everyone else. Timothy looked horrified and pale from the rough treatment, and it only got worse as Brick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and threw him into the closest chair, which nearly toppled over backwards from the force of him hitting it.

"Hey there, tiger," Lilith greeted, placing her hands on her hips. She looked irritable from having to be up so early; Athena began to regret telling Axton to wake her. “Long time no see.”

Timothy frowned a little. “H-hello, Lilith.”

"How are you feeling?"

He fumbled for words. "I'm - I'm okay, I think. Tired. But, uh, I've been worse, ma'am."

Lilith made a face. "Just Lilith, kid. I'm not that friggin' old.” She turned and gestured to the others. “That's Brick, and you've already met Axton and Gaige."

Timothy greeted Brick, then squinted at the duo. "Oh, you guys...you two got me out of Lynchwood, didn't you? Thanks for that."

"You remember?" Gaige asked, pulling up a chair of her own to straddle. She was clearly still half asleep, which was the only reason why Athena didn't strangle her when she continued: "Cos you were, like, hella out of it when we brought you here. Like, comatose levels of out of it, at least until we took that collar off you and you attacked us - "

Axton cleared his throat loudly and made a subtle little "shut the fuck up" motion with his hand, but it was too late. Gaige snapped her mouth shut and stared wide-eyed at Timothy, who paled drastically when he realized what she'd said.

"I did what?" he rasped, turning to look at Athena. "Did I hurt you guys?"

"Oh, you tried," Lilith cut in before Athena could deny it. The gladiator sent the siren a burning glare, but Lilith ignored her in favor of shaming Timothy some more. "As soon as we took that collar off of you, you repaid us by flaunting your flashy Eridium powers and doing your damnedest to piss us off."

"Aw, c'mon, Lil," Brick muttered, frowning at the siren. "I thought it was pretty obvious that he was just tryin' to get away from us."

With the rest of the room nodding in agreement, Lilith had no choice but to sigh and amend, "Okay, maybe you didn't _exactly_ start swinging your fists. But you tried to escape and that's still unacceptable."

Timothy sank lower in his seat. He looked devastated. "I'm sorry. I don't remember," he whispered. "It was like...I was dreaming for a long, long time, and now that I’ve woken up, I can’t remember anything." His dry lips pursed in a frown. "I don't think I want to remember everything."

"I wouldn't either," Axton agreed under his breath.

"Can we at least uncuff him before you start grilling him for information?" Athena snapped, turning to glare at Lilith. "It's clear he's not going to hurt us."

Lilith huffed but acquiesced, motioning for Axton to come forward and remove them from Timothy's wrists. The kid flashed the commando a grateful look, but became puzzled by the bandages he saw wrapped around his hands, from the tips of his fingers to his elbows.

"You, uh, got a little out of control when you started detoxing from the Eridium," Axton awkwardly explained. "It was for your own protection, not ours this time."

Timothy stared down at his wrapped palms, his expression eerily blank. "I see." A beat passed, then he looked up at Lilith. "I'm assuming the only reason why I'm still sitting here in one piece is because you have questions."

"I wouldn't call them questions," Lilith began, folding her arms across her chest. "You helped Jack rise to power."

Timothy grimaced at the mention of the tyrant's name. "I did."

"You continued to work for him afterward, even as he killed hundreds of innocent people and almost eradicated all of Pandora." The siren tilted her head. "You probably see where I'm going with this."

"Are you going to kill me?" Timothy asked quietly. He didn't sound apprehensive, which irked Athena.

"Maybe. It depends on a lot of factors, really,” Lilith said, shrugging. Athena knew she was probably lying, but she sent another scowl in the siren’s direction anyway, which she of course ignored.

"Well, you better make up your mind fast," Timothy remarked, frowning gloomily down at his feet. "By now, Jack probably knows you’ve disabled the collar and has dispatched half of the Hyperion army to collect me.” He scowled. “Hyperion never loses track of its toys."

Glances were exchanged. Athena felt lightheaded.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Gaige assured him, offering him a radiant smile. "The only thing Jack's doing these days is feeding the worms."

Timothy stared at her. "He's...dead?"

She nodded proudly. "Yup! We kicked his butt _and_ destroyed his dumb Warrior," she declared. "It was super awesome. Lilith blew that bastard’s mask right off his stupid ugly mug at the end! _Totally_ badass."

“Language,” Axton said through a yawn.

Ignoring the commando, Gaige began to go into detail about the epic fight and the events thereafter, but Athena barely heard her, too distracted by the sight of Timothy sinking deeper into his seat. A choked noise escaped him, but no one else noticed until he began to giggle. Gaige's story died out as Timothy's giggles exploded into full-blown cackling that left him hunched over and gasping for air.

"It ain't that funny," Brick snapped, visibly irked. "A lotta good people died to ensure that we finished that piece of shit off - "

"Brick," Gaige said suddenly, elbowing him to shut him up mid-tirade.

A moment later, the cackling melted away into wet, heaving sobs. Timothy began to openly weep into his bandaged hands, shaking and wailing like a newborn as reality completely consumed him. His tormentor was dead. He was free. But it was several years too late.

Knowing this, Athena gripped his shoulder, but quickly decided that it wasn't enough and let Timothy collapse into her arms. He wailed into her shoulder and weakly pawed at her back, mumbling nonsensical words in between heaving sobs.

"Can we not do this right now?" Athena asked the others quietly.

“No!” Timothy yelled, jerking out of her grip. His face was a mess of tears and snot, but perhaps the most disturbing thing was that, despite the anguish in his gaze, he was grinning. “No, I – I want to talk now. I'll tell you _everything_.”

~

All of Timothy’s manic eagerness to tell his story was sucked straight out of him when he was hauled upstairs. About a dozen Crimson Raiders were idling in the main room of HQ and fell quiet when he was ushered by, staring at him with an eerie blankness that made the kid hunch his shoulders in an attempt to look as small as possible.

Things didn't get any easier when they reached the meeting room. Mordecai was already in there and made a point to show off his expert knife-twirling skills as he greeted Timothy. By the time Timothy was given a chair to sit in, he was a trembling mess.

Athena caught his eye and offered what she hoped was an encouraging look, but judging by the grimace that flickered across his face, she probably just wound up looking scary.

"You'll be fine," she said quietly, taking a seat next to him. "Just relax and tell the truth."

Timothy turned to her, his eyes wide and wild. “Did Lilith let you go after you told the truth about Elpis?” he asked.

“Ah…” Athena cleared her throat and averted her gaze. “She, uh, was going to kill me. But she didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

The kid swayed in his seat; Athena lashed out and steadied him, frowning with worry. He hadn’t been fed or given water in the days he’d been delirious, she suddenly realized, and barked at one of the others to grab a canteen from downstairs for him. Gaige scurried off with a, “Don’t you dare start without me!”

She returned quickly enough and passed Lawrence the canteen, flashing him a disarming smile that briefly put the trembling man at ease. He tried and failed to return her a smile as he accepted the canteen and took a generous swig.

For a split second, Athena was sure the kid was going to spit the mouthful across the table. His eyes widened and scrunched together with disgust, but he swallowed the water nonetheless.

“Are you all right?” she asked him quietly, watching him all but shove the canteen away from himself. He should be ravenous after not having water for so long.

"I...it tastes…” He shook his head and abruptly changed the subject. “I don't remember what happened after I got the collar.”

"Then tell them what happened before."

"I-I..."

Timothy turned to face the rest of the room. Gaige, Axton and Lilith had taken the remaining chairs. Axton and Gaige were doing a good job of at least looking mostly harmless. Brick, on the other hand, stood by the door like a bouncer, and Mordecai was still playing with his goddamned knife.

“Why don't I start?” Athena suggested suddenly, turning to Lilith. “I didn't leave Jack's employment immediately after the vault. There was a week before my official resignation. Then Timothy can fill in the time after that.”

“Fine, whatever," she snapped. "Just someone start talking."

Athena glanced at Timothy for confirmation, and he nodded in agreement, visibly relieved to not have to take center stage just yet. 

“Right then.” Athena turned back to the group and took a deep breath. “I guess I'll start with me returning to Helios a few days before I decided to quit."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick thank you to everyone who has left a review and/or given this story kudos! I really appreciate y'all even taking the time to give this story a glance. :)

Athena released a heavy sigh as she set foot on the cold metal floor of one of Helios's many docking stations.

She wasn't at all surprised to see human workers clad in bright Hyperion yellow hurrying about their business amid the loader bots that were unloading boxes and crates from shipment shuttles. It had been nearly a month since Jack's - Handsome Jack's rise to power and the man was wasting little time in fixing everything that the Lost Legion had royally screwed up during their stay on the station. Last she heard, Jack was in the process of disbanding the board that made all the final decisions in regards to Hyperion as a business corporation. Most had caved in easily and handed over the reigns, while others, like the one Athena had just spent days tracking down, required a little more convincing. Soon, Jack would own all of Hyperion, and eventually, rule over Pandora.

At least, that was his plan. Athena had already made up her mind that she was going to hand in her resignation in the following days, and hopefully she'd be gone long before he got around to potentially ruling the planet with his iron tyrannical fist.

With heavy, aching legs, she made her way out of the docking bay and away from the hustling workers. Thankfully there was a shuttle already waiting for her that would take her straight towards Jack's office. She found a seat near the back that was blessedly vacant; she was getting enough wide-eyed, snooty stares as it was and didn't need a confrontation on top of her physical and mental exhaustion.

A few minutes later the shuttle took off down the track towards the next stop. Athena let her eyes shut and her mind wander, specifically towards getting some rest. Jack had oh so generously supplied all of them their own entirely-too-luxurious apartment to stay in when he had first hired them, and as ludicrous as it made Athena feel whenever she was in there, she couldn't help but look forward to flopping onto the king size bed and overstuffed pillows and insanely soft blankets. A nice hot shower would be in order as well, she figured. She deserved that much.

She should have been irritated by this, she supposed. Before all this nonsense with Elpis, she had been used to not showering or sleeping on a legitimate bed as she roamed the vast deserts of Pandora. She'd been lucky if she found food to eat to keep her going. Jack had spoiled her, made her dependent on luxuries that didn't mean much in the end, which was one of the many reasons why she was planning her resignation. He could keep his blood money as far as she was concerned. She survived without him once before. She would do it again.

About an hour later, the shuttle dropped her off a few sections away from what was considered the higher-class portion of the space station. Only the entitled were allowed past the gates that lead to Jack's new and improved office; she was the only one to get off at that stop and earned a few dirty looks from the few remaining passengers.

Thankfully Jack's office was on the way to her apartment, otherwise she probably would have put off reporting to him until the morning. He wasn't expecting her for another day at least, and she hadn't thought to radio him that she was on her way back to base. She really must be tired.

Joanne, Jack's secretary, was still seated at her desk despite it nearing midnight. Athena nodded at her as she passed, noting how pale and shaky the older woman was as she tentatively flashed her a smile. Being Jack's secretary surely generated a lot of stress, Athena reasoned. It certainly wasn't a job she would have taken.

Several security gates and scans later, she was walking down the unnecessarily long hallway towards Jack's office. The walls on either side of her were lined with images of Jack promoting Hyperion or obnoxiously bright Hyperion logos.

Athena was really, really starting to hate the color yellow.

The stench of burning flesh slapped her in the face as soon as the door to Jack's office swished open. She recoiled, not used to having it smell anything other than whatever was used to sterilize the place, or like sex thanks to Nisha hanging around more often than not.

Despite herself, she felt worry bubble in her chest until she caught sight of Handsome Jack standing behind his desk, whistling obnoxiously as he scrolled through an ECHO device. He was clad in a yellow bathrobe with a gigantic Hyperion logo embroidered across the back, and his hair was slicked back and damp. Nisha must be around somewhere, then.

"Jack," Athena barked, striding forward.

The CEO jumped and nearly dropped the ECHO device. "Athena," he blurted, momentarily looking surprised before his usual smarmy expression returned. "Didn't expect you back so soon, tiger. I guess that means that jaunt I sent you on was a success, right? Did ol' Mr. Rothburg agree to my terms and conditions?"

Athena dug into her belt and produced an ECHO containing Mr. Rothburg's pained voice proclaiming Handsome Jack as the new holder of his shares. Jack grinned like a giddy little kid as he scooped the recorder out of her hands and pressed play. The conversation played out until Jack nodded, content with what he heard, and tucked the device into one of the drawers in his desk.

"Great! Thanks, pumpkin. Your money's with Julie. See her before you peace out for the night." He turned away, content to go back to whatever it was he was doing before she interrupted him, but Athena wasn't about to leave until she got some answers.

"What happened in here? It smells like burnt skin."

"Nothin' to worry about," the man said, waving off her concern. "Just keepin’ a promise."

Somehow, realization managed to hit her all at once. "Where is he?" she blurted as her shock quickly began to morph into anger.

"Who?" Jack asked without looking up.

"The kid."

" _Who_?"

Athena grabbed the ECHO out of his hands and threw it clattering to the ground. He jerked, startled, only to let out a grunt as she seized him by the front of his robe and backed him into the huge glass window that overlooked Elpis. He stared at her through wide eyes as she leaned in close.

"Your body double. Where is he?"

Jack's expression leveled out into an eerily blank one. "Had him escorted to the medical wing about an hour ago," he told her, his tone as about as expressionless as his face. "He's probably still in the ER."

Athena released him. He remained against the window as she turned and made for the door. She was walking on extremely thin ice, she knew, but as stupid as Jack was half the time, he wasn't so foolish as to not realize that, if it came down to it, Athena could easily snap his neck. It was probably the only reason why he hadn't attempted to shoot her in the back yet.

As she stormed towards the door, she caught sight of Nisha leaning against the doorway to Jack's chambers; she was idly rubbing her wet hair in a towel and sneering at the other woman as she passed.

"You should've heard him squeal," the lawbringer said, grinning nastily. "You'd've thought Jack was choppin' his balls off, not brandin' his handsome mug."

Athena glowered at her, disgusted yet not at all surprised that the other woman had a hand in attacking the body double.

As soon as the door to Jack's office slid shut behind her, Athena bolted down the hallway, shedding her usual stoic finesse. She damn near tripped over herself when she heard Joanne call her name as she floored it past the woman's kiosk.

"O-oh, Miss Athena!" the middle-aged woman blurted, jerking to her feet. "H-Handsome Jack asked me to give you this..." She held out a sealed envelope stuffed with cash with shaking hands.

Athena sent Joanne a curious look. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," she stuttered, shakily wiping away the sweat on her brow. "Just...that poor boy. He was such a mess when they took him away, and his face..."

"Who? The body double?"

Joanne nodded rapidly and blinked back frantic tears. "Oh, god, I could hear his screams from here," she whispered. "Such a nice young man. Miss Athena, I-I know you're probably tired and busy, but - "

"I was going to check on him right now. And keep this," the gladiator said, pushing the envelope back into the woman's hands. "Use it to take a day off."

Joanne looked ready to protest, but Athena didn't give her the chance.

Athena had only been to the medical wing of the space station twice before when her wounds had been too extensive to be patched up with the first aid kit she kept in her apartment. She didn't like the place; the doctors and nurses were all faceless, white-clad drones that Jack had brought in from Hyperion's main headquarters. The best of the best, he'd boasted. In other words, as about as corrupt as the corporation itself. Athena trusted Nurse Nina in Concordia more than she trusted the men and women here.

The sterile, blindingly-white waiting room was mostly empty by the time Athena stormed through the front door. There was a nurse at the front desk typing away at a console and another standing on the other side of the desk flipping through a file. She looked up as Athena grew nearer and offered her an incredibly fake smile.

"Can I help you?" she asked in a cheerfully monotonous voice.

"I need to see, uh, Jack," Athena said awkwardly. "He was brought in an hour ago with a wound to his face."

"I'm sorry," the nurse replied. "Jack is not accepting visitors at this time. Please come back tomorrow during visiting hours."

"Let me put it this way," Athena said, shifting just enough to reveal her blade, "either you take me to see the kid, or I cut through you and anyone else that stands between me and him."

The nurse's fake smile didn't falter. "This way, please."

She turned and led Athena down one of the long corridors that were lined with plain numbered doors. Some of the doors were open, revealing the wounded and recovering inside. The decorations in this place were few and far between and left a lot to be desired; there was a fake potted plant every couple dozen feet or a painting that was, of course, Hyperion-related hanging next to a door. It was all kinds of depressing.

Finally, after what seemed like miles of walking, the nurse stopped outside one of the open rooms. Athena didn't bother waiting for the nurse's permission to enter and was silently grateful when she made no move to follow her in.

The room was dimly lit and smelled faintly of blood beneath the layers of chemicals meant to mask such awful scents. It took her a moment, but eventually Athena approached the bed, her steps laden with apprehension at what she would find lying among the blindingly white sheets.

Timothy lay nearly smothered beneath the blanket that was drawn almost to his chin. His brown hair was the only bit of color against the white pillows, but even then a good chunk of it had been covered alongside his face with great crisscrossing strips of gauze and medical tape. The left side of his face sustained more damage, if the amount of bandages stretched across his sallow skin was any indication, and the giant pad of gauze held in place over his eye led Athena to believe that there was little hope in saving it. His other eye, while uncovered, hadn't escaped damage either; it was puffy and irritated from the wound that had skirted just a little too close to it. The outline of the entire brand could be traced by the faint flecks of blood clotting against the gauze.

Timothy's breaths were shallow and weak, but he had a steady pulse according to the rhythmic beeping coming from one of the machines by his bedside. He was hooked up to a myriad of machines to monitor his vitals and IVs to supply him with nutrients, including a feeding tube leading into his left nostril.

He looked worse than Athena had ever seen him - and she had seen the poor kid with his guts literally hanging out of his stomach after that goddamned space hurps incident.

But he was alive.

A heavy sigh had Athena's shoulders sagging with a mixture of emotions she wasn't quite familiar with. On the one hand, she was relieved the boy was alive, but the sight of him wrapped up like a bloodied mummy made her stomach churn with disgust, anger, and sadness.

Jack did this to him. Perhaps the most infuriating thing about it was that he could have done this to Timothy _weeks_ ago. No, that bastard actually waited until Athena was out on a mission to attack the kid, no doubt knowing she would have put a stop to it before it could've happened.

The kid let out a small groan and shifted slightly, drawing Athena to his side in an instant. The small portion of visible brow crinkled up with pain and discomfort as he began to wake.

"Ma?" he groaned out, forcing his eye open. He stared through the ceiling, his gaze foggy and vacant.

"Just me," Athena said quietly. She gave his arm a squeeze and struggled to think of something to say. Back when she was loyal to Atlas, she would tell the younger recruits to get over whatever fears or insecurities they had and keep moving forward. That might have worked for them, but Timothy wasn't an assassin in training. 

His mouth moved for a long moment, but his tongue was too heavy with morphine to really spit anything intelligent out. Athena hushed him, hoping to lull him back to sleep, but the realization of where he was and why he was drugged must have slithered underneath the hazy blanket draped over his mind.

"Athena," he said, the word dropping out of his mouth like a stone.

"Yes?"

"I can't see," he said, reaching up with a shaking hand to paw at the left side of his face. His green eye darted around wildly; Athena wasn't sure if he was blind in that eye as well or if he was just panicking over the one.

“Athena, I can't see," he continued to murmur, almost like a prayer. His exposed eye got wider and wider as his declarations became wilder, frantic, until finally he was screaming, "I can't see! I can't see!" at the top of his lungs and tearing at the bandages on his face.

Athena seized his arms and pinned them down to the mattress just as the door burst open with a wave of doctors and nurses. At their urging, she backed off and let them swarm around Timothy, who continued to thrash and howl until someone injected something into him that turned his screams into whimpers and nonsensical noises.

Eventually he fell limp, sniffling quietly as the nurses began to change the bandages on his face. Athena caught glimpses of angry red flesh and trickles of blood, but the nurses were quick and efficient, finishing up in a matter of moments.

One by one they filed out, leaving Athena alone in a dark room with the kid.

~

It took Timothy less than a week to recover enough to function without massive doses of morphine. When Athena poked her head into the room on the fifth day, she was genuinely surprised to find him sitting up and sipping idly at a cup of something hot. There were less bandages wrapped around his face, she noted, and the feeding tube had been removed, too.

"Athena," he greeted quietly. His working eye bore into hers, but there was still an element of remoteness in his gaze. Athena hoped it was just a side-effect of the morphine drip still attached to the IV in his arm, but the sensible part of her knew that it was more than just that. She had seen similar looks on her long-dead comrades, and occasionally on herself if she happened to glance at her reflection in a mirror on a bad day.

"Hey," she said, shuffling almost sheepishly over to the lone chair next to the bed. She had played mother hen extremely well these past few days - though she would deny it - but now that Timothy was actually up and aware of things, she had no idea what to say. "So, uh, how are you doing?"

He stared down at the mug in his hand, utterly blank. "My face hurts," he said slowly. "Talking hurts. Everything..." He sighed and grimaced. "Everything hurts."

Athena bit her lip. "Any idea of when you'll be released?" she asked.

He shrugged one shoulder, still staring down at the dark liquid in his cup.

While he had been unconscious, Athena had pestered the doctors and nurses for answers about his condition, but their lips were sealed. That prompted her to sneak into the place after hours and snag Timothy's medical file, from which she learned that the burnt remnants of his left eye had to be removed and replaced with a sightless prosthetic orb, and that reconstructive surgery was out of the question for two reasons, the main one being that the wound was just too severe. The second reason had been scribbled across the file in big, sloppy letters that proclaimed Timothy's face to remain untouched by orders of Handsome Jack.

The door swung open and a handful of nurses strode in, disrupting Athena's angry thoughts. Timothy winced but didn't protest as they began to change his bandages. The old bandages were quickly discarded, but Athena caught a glimpse of them and noted with relief that they were only discolored instead of sopping wet with blood and pus like the first couple of layers had been at the very start of the week.

Her eyes snapped back to Timothy's face, but a nurse moved in front of him before she could catch a glimpse of the damage. When the ocean of white finally parted and vacated the room, Timothy was fully bandaged again and still very, very miserable. He sat with his shoulders hunched, looking smaller than ever among the sea of white blankets and over-sized pillows as he gazed blearily down into his cup of tea.

"You don't have to stay here," he rasped, lifting the mug to his lips once more. "You're probably very busy."

She wasn't, really. Jack had blessedly left her alone for the past couple of days, giving her nothing to do outside of train or visit Timothy. There was only so much training she could do in a day before she got irritated and tired and nervous about what kind of terrible things were being done to Timothy while she wasn't there.

The sound of ceramic breaking made her jump. She was alarmed to find Timothy slumped in his bed, his drink turning the blankets in his lap a dark shade of brown. Her eyes shot to the myriad of IVs poking out of his veins. One of the nurses must have added a dose of sedatives to one of his drips, she realized, cursing.

"'Thena," Timothy gasped weakly. There was a spark of confused panic in his eyes before they went dull and drifted shut.

"Timothy!" she yelled, rushing over to his side. The machine monitoring his vitals was still beeping steadily, his heartbeat beating out gentle green slopes across the screen, but that didn't lessen her trepidation any. Why would they knock him out again?

Before she could unleash hell on the staff that did this, the door swung open again with more nurses. They wasted little time in securing Timothy to his bed and rolling him out of the room, IVs and all, and down the hall, their pace leisurely but steady.

Athena seized the nearest nurse by the lapels of his uniform before he could disappear out the door. "Where are you taking him?" she demanded.

The nurse offered her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "He is scheduled to be released this afternoon," he said methodically. "He has only one more procedure to endure before then."

"And what might that be?" Athena growled, gripping the man tighter.

When he failed to reply, she shoved him aside and took off after the kid, only to find the hallway practically deserted. The desire to bury her Xiphos in the nearest fleshy object was thwarted only by the nurse she'd flung into the wall.

"He will be out of the OR in an hour or so," he said, almost sounding cheerful instead of tired and dead inside. "You can wait for him in the main lobby."

Every ounce of her wanted to snap this man's neck and move onto the nurses that had carted Timothy away, but she had no idea where they'd taken him to. Jack clearly wanted Timothy alive, but she still found herself pacing the length of the waiting room thinking up all sorts of terrible scenarios that Timothy could be suffering through right then.

Finally the doors swished open and revealed someone other than a nurse or doctor. She turned to find Timothy fully clothed, free of bandages, and trembling in his boots as a doctor escorted him into the lobby.

"By orders of Handsome Jack," the doctor elaborated without emotion. "You may escort the patient out of the medical wing now. Have a nice day."

She gaped at him as he turned and disappeared back through the door, leaving her and Timothy alone in the waiting room. The kid was clawing lightly at the mask bolted to his face, apparently unaware of his surroundings.

"Hurts," he breathed, sucking in frantic gasps. "It's burning, it's burning."

"Let me see," Athena ordered gently.

He slowly lowered his arms. The mask was identical to the one Jack wore; it even covered Timothy's destroyed eye with a false green one that moved and looked just as wild and filled with pain as the blue one. Sweat dotted the real skin at the top of Timothy's brow. The flesh there was already turning a violent shade of red from the new clips in his temples that were holding the mask in place.

Athena frowned. A wound as bad as the one taking up most of Timothy's face needed to breathe for another week, at the very least. This mask was going to make things so much worse than they already were for him - in more ways than one.

Then again, while she didn't trust these drones as far as she could throw them, she did acknowledge that they have access to top of the line medical tech. Maybe Timothy would be okay after all.

Maybe he would sprout wings and fly back to Eden.

She took his arm in his and began to urge him to move. They had to get out of here. "All right?" she asked him after his first couple of shaky steps.

"No," he grumbled, "but I'm ready to leave."

"Smartass."

He tried to crack a smile at her, but winced instead as his battered skin stretched in all the wrong ways.

They made it out of the medical wing easy enough, but Timothy's movement was slow and unsteady, no doubt from a combination of the pain and the remains of the drugs in his system. Said drugs eventually came pouring out of him halfway through the trek, landing at the bottom of a trash bin for some poor janitor to find at the end of his shift. It took a while, but they finally made it back to the restricted portion of Helios where their apartments were located.

"My place is that way," Timothy slurred, gesturing with a limp hand down one of the numerous hallways that branched off from the main hall.

"We're not going to your place."

One of Timothy's fake brows twitched upwards in question, but he didn't protest as she led him the opposite direction to her own apartment. She typed in the code to open the broad metal doors and quickly moved inside the second they parted.

"Do you want to shower, or just go to sleep?" she asked him.

He shook his head, eyes practically closed as he stumbled over to the king-size bed against the far wall. Mindful of his wound even while half asleep, he burrowed slowly under the blankets and was promptly unconscious, the only part of him visible being the wayward clumps of his hair that stuck out of the blankets like wads of grass.

Athena watched him for a moment before she ducked into the shower. The stress of the day seeped out of her as well, circling down the drain alongside the rest of the filth that once clogged her pores and weighed her down. The hot water felt glorious on her aching muscles, but as much as she wanted to stay submerged forever beneath the pressurized stream, she thought about the poor kid curled up on her bed and knew she had to get out.

She rubbed a towel over her wet locks as she exited the bathroom, dragging a wall of steam with her. Timothy, as she predicted, hadn't moved from his spot. She thought about taking some of the bedding to the couch on the other side of the room by the barren bookshelf, but decided it wasn't necessary. The bed was big enough for the two of them.

Before she could lift up the covers to join him, there came a knock at the door. Her blood turned to ice for a split second, only to become boiling the next at the thought of who it could be. If Jack was honestly dumb enough to show his face to her after what he did...

She stomped over to the door and hit the button to open it. Wilhelm stood on the other side of the threshold wearing his typical scowl. Athena noted that the man was now sporting a shiny new cyborg forearm and hand to go along with the rest of his mechanical accessories - suspicious, to say the least.

"What?" she growled. She wasn't sure if he'd had anything to do with Timothy's mutilation, but, if his new gear was any indication, Jack had surely bribed him enough to partake in it.

Wilhelm looked at her, then to Timothy, then back to her. The brow above his cybernetic eye quirked upwards.

Her frown deepened. " _What_ , Wilhelm?"

"Hey, don't let me intrude."

"I'll fucking stab you."

He held up his hands in pseudo-surrender. "Boss has another job for me and the kid," he said gruffly.

"He just got out of the medical wing," Athena snapped. "The job can wait."

"Not according to Jack."

"If Jack has a problem with it, he can come see me - "

"Athena, it's fine," came Timothy's weak voice from behind her.

She whirled around to find the kid up and shuffling towards them. "You need to rest," she gritted out.

He tried to offer her a reassuring smile, but the mask's lips barely managed to twitch upwards. "I'll be fine," he said quietly.

"But you -"

"I'll be _fine_ , Athena," he stressed. Quietly, bitterly, he added, "The worst has already happened."

Wilhelm stepped aside to let him pass, giving him a pretty wide berth. As he turned to follow, the cyborg caught Athena's gaze; she made sure to convey every last bit of rage and distrust and betrayal she felt towards him into one long, stony stare.

Of course, the enforcer's expression revealed nothing. He started after Timothy, and the door automatically slid shut as he left the sensor's range, leaving Athena glowering at the cold, gray metal.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow Athena managed to get some sleep in a bed that felt far too empty in a room that was far too big. Exhaustion had won her over despite her worrying about Timothy.

 _He's a vault hunter_ , her brain had told her as she had been struggling to stay awake. _He knows his limits. He'll be fine. Remember the space hurps incident?_

She did - all too vividly at times, usually in her nightmares.

But her brain was right: she had to give the man some credit. For being some broke, desperate college kid who had never used a gun let alone shot someone before setting foot on Elpis, he handled himself pretty well.

It was that type of thinking that allowed her body to eventually shut down for the night. She slept harder than she had in what felt like months, and when she finally crawled her way back into the land of waking, she noted that almost a full day had passed. She probably would have been content to shut her eyes and sleep for another day or two, but a quiet knocking on her front door made her realize that she hadn't come back to consciousness willingly.

"Go away," she snarled, attempting to pull the covers back over her head. She was done with missions for at least another day, damn it.

"It's me."

Athena's eyes snapped open. She threw off the covers, sprinted across her apartment, and punched the button to open the door, revealing Timothy's sagging frame. His revolver was dangling from one limp hand, and there was fresh blood splattered all over him.

"Jesus, kid - "

"It's not mine," he assured her. He was blinking slowly and staring through her as he spoke. "I didn't...know where else to go."

"It's fine," she said, stepping aside to let him in. She took note of the sluggishness in his gait and the way his free hand was clenched into a shaking fist at his side. "I think you could go for a shower now."

He nodded and slowly made his way towards the bathroom.

She followed him to the doorway. "There're fresh towels in the closet, I think," she said, nodding towards the small door next to the sink. "And a spare robe on the back of the door. I'll have someone wash your clothes for you."

Timothy said nothing in reply as he shrugged off his coat. It fell into a wet, gross pile at his feet. 

Athena frowned. "Well, yell if you need anything," she concluded, moving to shut the door to give him his privacy.

"Thanks, Mom."

The brief moment of sass gave Athena hope that the kid would be bouncing back from this eventually, which was good, because fuck all if she was any good at comforting people. She could barely hold a conversation that wasn't about battle tactics or strategies.

A few minutes later she heard the shower start up. Athena spent the next twenty minutes trying to find something to do. She ended up sitting on the edge of the bed disassembling her shotgun, but she gave up on that soon enough when she noticed that her gaze kept drifting back to the bathroom door. Suddenly it had been almost forty-five minutes since Timothy turned on the shower, and Athena was starting to worry. The kid had been covered in a lot of grime, but it certainly didn't take almost an hour to scrub it all off. Had he fallen and hurt himself?

She scowled. “Mom” indeed.

Eventually she got up and knocked on the bathroom door. "Did you drown?" she called, only half-joking. When Timothy didn't answer, her anxiety returned full-force. "Hey, kid, are you all right? If you don't answer me, I'm coming in."

If Timothy said anything in reply, she didn't hear it over the running water. She shoved open the door, expecting to find a grisly sight, only to see that Timothy was quite alive and sitting in the tub beneath the pounding spray of water, his knees drawn to his chest and his head hanging low. Even from her spot in the doorway, Athena could see the shivers wracking the kid's frame. Crap, was he crying?

"Hey," she said awkwardly as she approached, sidestepping around the pile of bloodied clothes. She knelt down next to the tub and winced as a few drops landed on her; the water was ice cold. "You're going to freeze. Why didn't you use hot water?"

"It's hot," he moaned, head lolling slightly. "I'm so hot."

She touched his forehead, her fingers brushing over the edge of the mask and the one clip by his temple, only to immediately withdraw when he whimpered and jerked away from her. "Sorry," she blurted, mentally kicking herself. "It feels like you've got a fever. Come on, let's get you out of the tub and into something warm."

The kid didn't protest as she stood up and turned the shower off. His shivering increased tenfold, to the point where Athena had to practically lift him over the rim of the tub because his legs were shaking too hard for him to fully stand on. She wrapped him in the spare robe and ushered him back into the bedroom. He made a sluggish bee-line towards the bed, but she snagged him by the arm and made him sit instead of lie down.

"We should probably take that off," she told him, gesturing to the mask.

"Jack said I should never take if off," Timothy blurted, wild-eyed at the very idea of removing it.

"Well, he didn't say anything about _me_ taking it off, did he?" Athena offered him a small smile. "If he's got a problem with it, he can take it up with me. Right now I really need to take a look at your face."

Though visibly reluctant, Timothy sat still and let her unclasp the damn thing. The noise it made as she peeled it away was nauseating - like stepping into a vat of macaroni and cheese - and it made both of them grimace.

As Athena predicted, Timothy's face was an inflamed, oozing mess. The outline of the entire brand was glowing an ugly red, and certain portions of it were leaking pus. Some of the bits that had tried to scab over were split open and bleeding a little. His blinded eye was swollen halfway shut, and the other working one wasn't looking any better.

"Bad?" he asked quietly, peering up at her like a kicked puppy.

"Definitely not good," she told him, setting the mask down on the bed. She didn't want to see what the inside of it looked like. "Pretty infected."

"Great," he said through a sigh. "Just let it fester. Maybe my face will melt off."

"Don't be foolish." Athena reached over to her bedside table and fished out a tube of healing gel. She had forgotten to put it back into the first aid kit a few weeks ago and was thankful that she didn't have to rummage around in her closet for the damn thing. “Hold still.”

He jerked away from her as she attempted to slather a glob of the gel on his face. "No! Don't - don't do that - "

"It has to be done," Athena told him, snagging one of his wrists as he attempted to push her away. She managed to smear a little bit of the gel across the bridge of his nose, but he ducked and made her slather the rest of it in his hair. "Do you want the infection to get worse? Sit still, fool!"

"Stop it!" he shrieked, falling back onto the bed in a desperate attempt to get away from her. When she proceeded to pin him down and continue to smear the gel along his wound, he finally froze, eyes wide and staring straight through her as she hurried to finish up.

"There," Athena said through a sigh as she sat back on her haunches. She kept her hands lightly framing his puffy face, mostly because Timothy was gripping her wrists so tightly that she couldn't actually move away. "Was that so bad?"

When he didn't reply, Athena met his gaze and found herself freezing as well. His breath was coming in rapid, short gasps through his flared nostrils while his expression remained fixed and tight with what could only be shock. Shit.

"Kid," she said softly, "look at me. Timothy."

He blinked. Tears spilled down the sides of his face as his eye found hers.

While she didn't know how to deal with tears, shock was something that Athena had witnessed far too often while on the battlefield. Some of the younger, less experienced soldiers would dive headfirst into a fight without realizing that it was the real deal until it was too late to pull out, and then they'd spend the next few hours shaking and staring blankly down at their bloodied hands.

After gently prying his hands away from her wrists, she picked up his long legs and positioned him so that he was lying flat on the bed, then propped his feet up with a couple of pillows. She opened the front of his bathrobe, then pulled the corner of the bedspread over him, making sure to keep it loose. She felt for his pulse and found it rapid but weak. She should probably call a legitimate doctor in, but she didn't want to run the risk of having him taken away again. That surely wouldn't do anything to ease his trauma.

Not knowing what else she could do, she crawled under the covers next to him. What do people do to comfort each other? Atlas had obliterated almost every last bit of desire to show affection towards others, be it physical or verbal. Whenever she was feeling upset, she would take her blade to the nearest surface - which was usually some form of flesh, if she was lucky - or practice throwing her Aspis at targets that were usually still alive and foolishly trying to flee from her. She doubted Timothy would find much comfort in that type of therapy.

Thankfully, some things were obvious.

Athena touched his hand with the tips of her fingers before she laced them through his limp grasp. It took him a long minute, but eventually Timothy returned her grip with a weak one of his own. A heavy, almost relieved-sounding sigh escaped him, and the panicked look in his eyes that he'd been sporting for the last ten minutes finally faded as his eyelids drifted shut.

~

"Hold up," Brick blurted, cutting Athena off mid-story. "Is there gonna be a lotta talkin' and bitchin' about emotional crap in this story? 'Cos that's boring."

Athena glared at him. "It's not a happy story," she snapped, "so yes, there's going to be a lot of 'emotional crap.' So sorry."

"I don't think you are," Mordecai said. The sniper’s gaze snapped to Timothy, who was hunched in his seat and staring blearily down at the table. "Tell us about the branding you got, amigo. That ought'a liven up the story a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah," Brick agreed, grinning.

Timothy jerked and paled several shades, which was astounding considering the fact that what little skin on his face that wasn't scared was already pale and sweaty.

"I...they...got me drunk," he whispered, gaze swiftly becoming far away and vacant as he dredged the memory up. "We just got back from a successful mission. Wilhelm and Nisha...they were being unusually kind, I realize now. Kept giving me drinks. Made me feel like I did a good job for once."

The room had fallen silent as Timothy mumbled to himself. No one had expected him to actually go into detail on how he got branded, Athena included, but nobody tried to stop him.

"Then they took me to Jack's office," Timothy breathed, reaching up to cradle his gaunt face in his hands. "I didn't know why until Jack ordered them to pin me to the floor and hold me still."

He turned to Athena then, gaze haunted. "You warned me," he said shakily. "You warned me he would do it, but I didn't listen, Athena - "

She squeezed his knee until he stopped shaking and shuddering long enough to gather himself and continue.

"I was just confused until he brought out the brand. I realized too late that I'd been tricked, that the people I thought I could trust were betraying me for money. I-I begged them not to do it, but Nisha just laughed and Wilhelm didn't so much as blink. They didn't care."

Athena shut her eyes and ground her teeth together. Of course Wilhelm had participated. He would bite off his own tongue if it meant an upgrade and a handful of cash. She regretted not accusing him of it when she had the chance. God, and she had let Timothy go with that man on a mission not even a day after...!

"Jack stood over me with the red-hot brand," Timothy continued, gradually growing more and more hysterical. "Said I was...I was being paid to be his body double, not some ugly knock-off. The sight of his old face made him so angry, but he just kept grinning and telling me that this was going to hurt him more than it was going to hurt me, and then he _did_ it, he shoved the brand onto my face and just held it there while I screamed, and it was the worst thing I've ever felt in my life, even worse than the plastic surgery, and he and Nisha were laughing afterward and Wilhelm took his money and left me there on the floor and - "

Timothy's mouth snapped shut as he turned white for a whole new reason. "Bucket," he managed to choke out.

Lilith just barely managed to throw the room's trashcan to the doppelganger. As Athena rubbed Timothy's back, Brick and Mordecai ducked out, mumbling that they should be called back in if shit starts exploding in the story - literally, not figuratively. Axton also had to briefly leave, claiming he was a sympathy vomiter and would probably start puking too if he stuck around to watch.

Not having much in his body to upchuck, Timothy was sitting back soon enough and uttering a quiet apology to the room's remaining occupants. Recalling the memory of his branding left him physically exhausted. It made Athena worry that he wouldn't be able to get through his own story when the time came. She doubted Lilith would be compassionate enough to let him get away without at least a quick summary.

Eventually Gaige went to grab Axton, and with a somewhat-bored nod from Lilith, Athena picked up where she left off.

~

When she woke sometime later, she was mildly irritated to see that yet another day had passed. Her stomach gave a desperate rumble, and she would have gotten up to grab something from her kitchen if she hadn't noticed the hand clinging desperately to hers.

Turning her head, she blinked blearily through the darkness to find Timothy curled up next to her. Her first instinct was to punch him, but her brain caught up with her body and she forced herself to relax as she remembered the events from a day earlier. In the darkness she couldn't tell what condition his face was in, so she rolled over as best as she could with the kid still clinging to her hand and fumbled for the button on the bedside table.

Athena growled as light flooded her senses. As soon as her eyes adjusted to the brutal assault, she turned back to Timothy and was immediately relieved to note that the swelling on his face had gone down. The skin was still pretty inflamed around the brand, but that was to be expected.

"Timothy," she whispered, giving his hand a jerk where it sat still entwined with hers. "Timothy, wake up. I need to put more healing gel on your face."

The boy groaned and cracked open his eyes. He could open the blinded one now, though there wasn't much point in doing that. "Izzit time for school, Ma?" he slurred.

"No, it's time for you to sit still and not freak out while I do this." She held up the tube of healing gel and wiggled it in front of his face. "It might sting a little, but you'll be fine. Okay?"

He hummed, eyes closed again, so Athena took a chance to quickly dab a bit of the gel across his cheekbone. He hissed a little through his teeth, but remained still as she slathered more gel on the rest of his face.

"Seems like your fever's gone down," she pointed out as she worked. "How do you feel?"

"My face hurts," he said flatly, cracking open his good eye to weakly glare at her. "But I don't feel as dead as I did yesterday, so I guess that's good."

"It is," she agreed. "No fever means I won't have to drag your ass down to Elpis to see Nurse Nina. I don't trust these Hyperion doctors."

Timothy grunted in agreement as his eyes fluttered shut again.

As the kid dozed, Athena showered, tossed on a robe, and scrounged together some food for them to eat. She didn’t have much - she hadn't been able to do a food run for a few weeks now - but Timothy seemed eager enough to chow down on some crackers and peanut butter after days of not eating anything.

"I'm quitting," Athena told him eventually, breaking the semi-comfortable silence between them.

Choking, a chunk of food flew out of Timothy's mouth and just barely missed beaning her in the face. "You're what?" he blurted in between coughs.

"Quitting. Preferably by tomorrow at the latest."

He gaped at her as he dragged his hand across his mouth to catch the wayward spittle, only to hiss and mime clawing at his face as the action further irritated his flesh. " _Fuck_! Stupid...!" He blinked away the tears in his eyes. "Y-you think Jack's gonna let you leave?"

She shrugged. "I'd like to see him try to stop me," she said, smirking. "I did what he hired me to do. I have no obligation to keep working for him, especially now." She paused. "You should quit, too."

He barked out a bitter, angry laugh. "Oh, sure! Lemme just pack up my guns and grenades and head on home! Won't Mom be surprised to see me after thinking I've been dead for months. I'm sure she'll just _love_ what Jack's done to my face."

Athena's frown deepened. "You don't have to act like a child," she snapped. "I'm concerned about you staying here. It isn't safe."

"No shit. If I could leave, I would, Athena. You know I would."

"Then why don't you?"

"Looking like this?" he exclaimed, gesturing to himself. "Where the hell would I go? Jack's face is all over the six galaxies at this point! I would be recognized in an instant - and probably shot on sight."

"So wear a mask. A real one - or headgear of some kind. You have options other than rotting in the hands of that asshole."

Timothy bit his lip and tugged on chunks of his hair. "He won't let me go," he whispered, more so to himself. "He's dumped too much money into me to just let me go. And even if he did, I can't - I can't be a burden on you, Athena."

She arched a brow at him. "Burdens don't help kill Sentinels or become vault hunters, kid. Remember the space hurps incident in the Veins of Helios? You saved my life even though it almost cost you your own. That doesn't sound like a burden to me."

He stared down at the bedspread for a long while, expression one of pure torment as he mentally went over the pros and cons to leaving. "Okay," he whispered finally, picking his head up. Fat tears rolled down his nose, but he hesitated to wipe them away, afraid of the pain he might cause. "T-tomorrow. We'll tell him tomorrow."

She offered him a smile that he tentatively returned.

They finished up their meals and Athena tried not to fuss over Timothy as he made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. Twenty minutes later he resurfaced looking worlds better, even if his brand was still inflamed and raw. He was even able to crack a smile at her that didn't look too pained.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked as he came back over to the bed and plopped down. "For after, I mean."

"Not really. I was going to go back to Elpis. I have some, uh, promises to keep."

Now it was Timothy's turn to waggle his eyebrows at her. "Business with Springs?" he teased.

"Shut up."

"Don't be embarrassed! It's cute," he said, cracking half a grin. "Besides, it might be good for you. All we've been doing for the past two months is killing. Doing something normal and, well, not-murder-y might do you some good."

She didn't tell him that for her, killing people _was_ normal. "Well, what do _you_ have in mind?" she countered. "You going to go find Moxxi and hang out with her for a while?"

His expression soured, though Athena did note that his cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned a light shade of red. "Hang out with the girl of my dreams after she tried to murder all of us?" He scoffed. "No thanks. I'm not stupid - or that desperate."

"You asked her to marry you."

Timothy sputtered and turned an even deeper shade of red. "I - no, I didn't mean - okay, look, I'm not exactly proficient when it comes to dealing with women - "

"That much is obvious."

He groaned and rolled away from her. "You're mean," he whined, curling into a sad little ball. "Go have that drink with Janey and leave me here to die, you horrid woman."

Rolling her eyes, Athena picked up one of his discarded towels, twisted it into a tail, and snapped it across Timothy's backside. He shrieked and flailed and would have fallen off the bed if not for the bedside table, though he did manage to knock the lamp off of it before catching himself. He whirled on her, startled and a little wounded, but his mood instantly brightened when he realized Athena was struggling to hold back a smile behind her usual scowl. He threw the pillow at her in retaliation, nailing her in the noggin, before he fell back against the comforter with a small smile on his face.

"I used to think it would be nice," he mumbled eventually. "Settling down with someone somewhere quiet in the countryside, with like, a cat to keep us company. Maybe two cats. Three max."

"No kids?"

"Nah. Kids make it difficult to get work done, especially if your job is to sit down and concentrate on writing all day, y'know?" He shrugged. "Besides, I practically raised my sisters, so I figure that sort of counts."

Athena arched a brow. "I didn't know you had sisters."

"Five of 'em," he said, then grinned at her bug-eyed reaction. “I know, it was about as fun as it sounds.” His mood abruptly tanked, leaving him frowning down at his lap. “I haven't seen them in...jeez, two years almost? Lois probably married that punk she'd been dating in high school, ugh. Gosh, Molly must have graduated from college at this point. I...I promised her I’d be there to see her get her diploma.”

His lower lip trembled as fresh tears threatened to spill over, but, as Athena reached out to give him a comforting pat on the shoulder, he forced them back and offered her a watery smile. "Thanks for listening to this crap," he said. "Talking about it takes my mind off the burning sensation in my face."

Athena frowned. "Do you want more gel on it?"

"Nah, it's - "

The loud banging of a fist meeting metal jolted both vault hunters to their feet. Their heads snapped around in unison as another round of knocking filled Athena's apartment.

"Wakey, wakey!" called an all-too familiar voice from behind the front door. "Athena-a-a, you've got twenty seconds to open this door before I blow it off its hinges! One...two..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	5. Chapter 5

"Three...four…”

Timothy paled and sucked in a ragged, frightened breath before he began tearing the pillows and covers off of the bed in a mad search for his mask. Athena was right behind him as she threw off her robe, modesty be damned, and quickly yanked on a pair of pants and a tank top.

"Where is it?" Timothy hissed, voice almost lost to Jack's as he counted to seven. "Athena, my mask! He'll kill me if - "

"Bathroom," she whispered as she struggled with the zipper on her pants. She had washed the gunk out of it and forgot to bring it back. "Just put it on and stay in there until he leaves. I’ll take care of this."

He didn't need to be told twice. Timothy bolted into the other room just as Jack called fifteen seconds, and as soon as the door was shut firmly behind the kid, Athena strode over to the console next to the door and opened it for the CEO.

The door swished open, revealing Jack in all his smarmy glory. He was smiling, but Athena could practically taste the animosity in the air around the man. He wasn't here to say hello.

"Jack," she greeted blandly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, don't look so happy to see me, princess!" the man exclaimed. "It's been a while. I was just concerned about my little gladiator."

"I'm not your little anything."

Jack hummed, then looked past her. "Rough night?" he asked, eying up the blankets and pillows strewn about the room. The broken lamp next to the bedside table didn't help the scene look any less risque either, nor did the tube of healing gel lying on the floor among the blankets.

Athena smiled sweetly at him, though she was sure it looked more sinister than anything. "I don't believe that's any of your business," she said. “Especially considering the fact that I'm quitting."

Jack's jaw dropped. "Quitting? You can't just - " He cut himself off with a forced chuckle. "Let's discuss this further in my office, m'kay, tiger? I was actually stopping by to see if you know where my dumbass double made off to."

"Haven't seen him. I'll be at your office in twenty."

The CEO hummed, clearly not convinced, but he turned and strode away from the door nonetheless. It slammed shut as soon as he was out of sensor range.

A minute later Timothy stumbled out of the bathroom clad in his pants and a tank top that was very obviously Athena's. She arched a brow at him, and he shrugged, blushing beneath the terrible mask that now adorned his face.

"I can't just run around shirtless," he muttered, tugging at the material. The shirt was too small and exposed a pale line around his midriff, a fact that he seemed entirely too embarrassed over. "Mine's still gross. I'll wash it and give it back to you later, I promise."

"I assume you're going to make a pit-stop at your room to change out of that before joining me in Jack's office, right?"

He fumbled for words, but Athena wouldn't allow him to spit out an excuse to get out of it.

"I know I said tomorrow, but it looks like we're getting our break now," she told him. "This is it, Timothy. We're getting out of here today. I swear it."

The kid shuddered violently for a split second, but in the end he wound up nodding his head in silent agreement. Athena offered him a genuine smile and made him promise to meet up with her outside of Jack's office in fifteen minutes.

Athena hated how her heart was in her throat by the time she made it to Jack's office. She wasn't worried for herself - Jack couldn't hold her here if he tried for a hundred years. But he wouldn't give Timothy up without a fight.

Well, she thought as she gripped the familiar hilt of Xiphos, if Jack wanted a fight, she would be glad to bring it to him and anyone else who stood in her way.

Two minutes before she was scheduled to meet with her soon-to-be-ex-boss, Timothy shuffled around the corner clad in Jack's usual attire. He'd made a half-assed attempt to fix his hair, but it still hung limply off to the side as a reflection of his mood.

Athena reached up and fixed it for him as soon as he was within reach. He flinched slightly as her hands neared his face, but relaxed almost immediately as she ran her fingers through his tangled locks.

"I'm gonna cut this goddamned pompadour off as soon as we're outta here," he whispered, shutting his eyes.

"You can borrow my sword if you want."

He offered her a grateful smile that vanished as soon as they walked through the office door and spotted Handsome Jack by his desk. Pandora loomed behind him in all its purple-brown glory, casting the man in an eerie light.

The CEO glanced up at them as they grew closer and grinned. "Ah, there you are, kiddo!" he exclaimed, marching over to lay his hands on his double's shoulders. Timothy flinched at the contact - something Jack failed to notice, of course. "Been lookin' for ya all over the place. Where've you been for the past three days, huh?"

A frown appeared on Timothy's fake face. "Recovering," he ground out.

Jack had the gall to roll his eyes and blow a raspberry. "Please, you make it sound like I cut off your foot or something. I recovered from my brand in like, a day and a half."

Before Timothy could think of something to say in response to _that_ bullshit, Jack's gaze snapped to Athena, but instead of flashing an onslaught of rage, he cracked a wide grin at her.

"Oh, oh, you missed it, me," he said excitedly to Timothy. "Athena told me the funniest thing - well, say it again, Athena," he choked out, struggling not to laugh. "Go on, tell him what you told me earlier. Oh, man, so good."

Athena gritted her teeth and spat out, "I quit."

She barely had the words out before Jack was slapping his knee and laughing again. "What a kidder!" he crowed. "Quitting - can you believe that?"

"I assure you," she growled, "that I'm being serious. I quit. You can keep your money."

Beside her, Timothy took a deep, shuddering breath. “Me too,” he blurted like he was ripping a band-aid off. “I-I quit, too.”

Jack scrutinized him for a moment before he burst out laughing again, this time tilting his head back and cackling to the ceiling. "Oh my god," he eventually blubbered as he wiped imaginary tears away. "Oh, thanks, guys, I needed that laugh. Get back to work before I kill you or something. Hah, quitting. Good one.”

Timothy cast Athena a desperate "what do we do?" look, which only made the gladiator angrier. “We're serious,” she practically snarled, taking a threatening step towards the CEO. “We quit. Good luck with the whole taking over Pandora thing. We no longer want to be a part of it.”

Finally, Jack seemed to take them seriously. He was still smirking as he returned to his chair, but at least his cackling had ceased. "Okay, I can understand you wanting to take off, Athena. But double-me? Seriously? Where the hell do you think you're gonna go? You don't have a home anymore. You signed that away when you agreed to undergo surgery - "

"First of all," Timothy began quietly, "I didn't agree to anything, despite what the doctors tried to make me believe. I showed up for what I thought was going to be an interview and wound up being drugged and changed into this," he gestured bitterly to himself, "without my consent. Second of all, there are loads of places I can go. It's a big universe. I'm sure someone has no idea who you are.”

Jack snorted, clearly unamused. “Well, believe me, it's not gonna stay that way for long,” he assured them. “At any rate, you can't just leave, kiddo. Not only are you under contract, you're very, very important to me.”

Timothy recoiled, weirded out. “Uh...important?” he wheezed.

“Oh yes. I'm not expecting things to go wrong with this little project I've got going on here, but a real hero is always prepared for the worst. I'm not gonna lie: those bandits have it out for me. Lilith and her band of miscreants screwed me over before, and I fully expect them to try again. So, I have a backup plan should everything go south.” He flashed a sickeningly sweet smile at Timothy. “You.”

“Me?” the kid echoed. It was his turn to choke out a laugh of disbelief. “What, you expect me to take over if they kill you?”

“ _You_? Take over?” Jack barked out a laugh. “Oh, good one, me! You're choc' full of funnies today.”

The tyrant abruptly sobered and stood from his seat. Both Athena and Timothy tensed as the man moved towards them again.

“Look, I realized that I hurt you pretty badly when I brought that hot iron down on you. I wasn't in the best state of mind then, and I'm sorry, truly.” For a moment, even Athena believed that Jack was honestly remorseful, but then he saw fit to continue with, “I should have used a machine from the start. Would've saved me time and you some hours of recuperation that you could've been using to run errands for me.”

Timothy winced and took a timid step away from Jack as the man continued to talk.

“You're much more than just my body double,” their soon-to-be-ex-boss said. “You've literally been remade into my image. A true masterpiece – one that I just don't have the time and money to replicate.”

“I'm not you, Jack,” Timothy hissed bravely, slowly straightening up. He was very nearly the same height as Jack and able to glower into the man's mismatched eyes. “I will never be the person you want me to be.”

To their surprise and extreme discomfort, Jack smiled. “I'm aware,” he said. “Which is why I've signed you up to get an ECHO port implant.”

“ _What_?” both Athena and Timothy blurted.

Athena felt her heart plummet into her stomach. Port implants were uncommon for a multitude of reasons, the foremost being that it was potentially life-threatening if you got it done by someone who didn't know what they were doing. That wasn't Athena's major concern, given that Hyperion, while corrupt, could afford to hire the best of the best to do the operation.

It was the fact that not only would Timothy now have a hole in the side of his head, his brain and parts of his spine would become mostly mechanized. They would literally be wiring him up with a computer-like system. Yet again, Timothy would suffer from a non-consensual operation, only this time, it would be internal.

“Exciting, right? That way I can just download an AI of myself directly into your newly mechanized noggin,” Jack continued gleefully, tapping the side of his own head for emphasis. “An AI that, if my memory serves me correctly, you helped develop. So, thanks!”

Athena remembered that awkward mission from Nakayama; she had to stand there and watch the older man visibly molest Timothy with his eyes while he verbally went on and on about how great and handsome and wonderful the real Jack was. The AI they had constructed had been less than functional, but it had been a while since they'd been in contact with Nakayama, so it was all too possible that the man had fixed the damn thing. The very thought made her blood run cold.

“You can't,” Timothy whimpered. “You can't do this to me.”

“It's cute that you think I might listen to you if you keep saying that.”

Something snapped in the younger man. “Yeah?” he seethed, pulling his shoulders back. “Well it's cute how you think I'm just going to sit back and take any more abuse from you. In case you forgot, _sir_ , I fought the Invincible Sentinel and won. I'm a goddamn vault hunter. I've killed hundreds – thousands of bandits and scavs! And I'm not – I'm not afraid to do the same to you!”

Jack downright squealed. "Ooh, lookit you, tryin' to be all tough," he cooed, reaching out to pinch Timothy's face. His glee abruptly vanished when the kid slapped his hand out of the air.

"Don't touch me," Timothy snarled, taking a step back. “I'm leaving. I'm leaving with Athena and there's nothing you can do to stop me.”

The air was so tense Athena was close to feeling nauseous from it. Jack just stood there, his raised eyebrows the only sign of emotion on his face, until he slowly released a sigh and shook his head.

“Oh, kiddo,” he said sadly. “I didn't want it to come to this, you know. But naughty children must be punished, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself for this.”

Timothy's new tough exterior visibly began to crack. “What?”

Jack ignored him as he sauntered over to the intercom system on his desk. “Julie,” he began sweetly, “I need you to send some men out to Eden. There's a Mrs. Lawrence I desperately need to speak to.”

“You - ” Rage surged back into the kid as quickly as it had left him. “You leave my mother alone, you prick!” he roared, lunging towards the tyrant faster than Athena anticipated he could move. He slipped out of her grasp and would have probably vaulted over the desk if Jack hadn't drawn his gun and shot him mid-leap, sending him tumbling to the side with a yelp of pain.

“Naughty,” Jack cooed, wagging his gun at his fallen double. “What am I gonna do with you, pumpkin? Oh, that's right: put my AI into your grand-spankin'-new mechanical brain and then freeze you until you're needed. Or, I guess I should say until I'm needed. Not that I will be, but it's nice to know I've got a backup. Cheers, kiddo.”

Timothy groaned through gritted teeth as he struggled to sit up. Blood spilled from the hole in his shoulder, but the wound was superficial. At most, Jack would use it as an excuse to put him under the knife for another painful, mostly-unnecessary surgery.

Jack buzzed the guards in and ordered them to take Timothy down to the OR where the doctor would be waiting for him. Timothy looked ready to put up a fight as the armed guards approached, but he remembered Jack’s threat and allowed himself to be manhandled to his feet.

He leveled a steely look at his boss. “If I cooperate, will you leave my mom alone?” he asked quietly.

Jack smiled at him. “Sure thing, pumpkin.”

Athena sent Timothy a wild look as the urge to defend him attempted to claw its way out of her. She forced herself to remain still, afraid of further aggravating the situation now that Jack had dragged Timothy’s mother into the picture. “Timothy,” she hissed, not knowing what else to say or do.

The kid met her gaze and instantly turned away, ashamed and defeated.

As the guards began to haul Timothy towards the door, the intercom gave a crackle as Jack's receptionist asked, “Shall I disregard that last order, sir?”

Jack hummed for a moment. “Naw, carry it out. I wanna have a chat with Mrs. Lawrence about her troublesome little boy.”

Timothy let out a screech of rage and began to struggle, but his wounded shoulder kept him from wiggling out of the guards' hands. The boy continued to scream death threats as he was carted down the hall.

Athena stood there listening until he was out of earshot. She felt like the biggest piece of skag garbage in the solar system for not doing anything.

“You're a monster,” she said out loud. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Jack or herself.

“You still here?” Jack asked, sounding distracted. “You don't work for me anymore, cupcake. Scoot along now before I have you escorted out, too.”

She wanted to shoot him in the goddamn kneecaps and watch him writhe in pain. She wanted to bash his stupid fucking handsome head in with Aspis. She wanted to shoot him out the airlock like he did to Gladstone and the other innocent scientists.

Instead, she walked out the door.

~

“And that's all I know,” Athena concluded through a sigh. It was astonishing how simply recalling a stressful instance or two could completely drain a person of energy. She'd take a battlefield full of bloodthirsty kragons and scavs over this kind of emotional exhaustion any day.

The room was heavy and silent as everyone digested everything Athena had just told them. It was a far cry from the constant excitement that stemmed from the last story she told them earlier.

“Your turn, kid,” Lilith started to say, only to fall silent at the sight of Timothy slumped over in his seat, head lolling against his chest as he slumbered. The kid looked troubled even in his sleep, Athena noted sadly.

Gaige jumped up and stretched. “ _Well_ , I think that's a sign that we're done for today,” she said. “I dunno about the rest of you, but I'm hungry and in desperate need of something fun to wash out this nasty depressing taste in my mouth.”

“Wanna go grab some grub and shoot some bandits?” Axton offered as he too stood up. “Not necessarily in that order.”

“Hell yes!” the young girl exclaimed, pumping her fists in the air. “Mordy, Brick, you comin'?”

At the prospect of violence, Mordecai and Brick poked their heads around the corner wielding identical looks of excitement. “You know I'm in, amigo,” Mordecai said, giving his revolver a flick that sent the barrel rolling. Brick made a noise of agreement as he cracked his knuckles.

Axton caught Athena's gaze and offered her a wink as he and the others filed out. Lilith noticed this and frowned, but didn't put up a fight.

“Tomorrow, then,” she ground out as she rose to her feet and headed towards the door.

Once the room was empty, Athena turned back to Timothy and gently nudged him awake. The boy grumbled and probably would have screamed if she hadn't been whispering quiet words of assurance to him as she ushered him to his feet.

Getting him down the stairs was about as hard as she thought it was going to be, but she managed to get them to the ground floor without killing either of them. Most of the beds that lined the walls of the main room were blessedly empty, so she dragged Timothy over to the one farthest from everything – everything being Tannis, who was staring at them from her side of the room like she was tossing a live bomb around.

“Here we go,” Athena murmured as she helped him into the bottom bunk. He immediately snugged down beneath the covers and let out a contented sigh. “See you tomorrow, Timothy.”

She went to leave, but he snagged her hand by the wrist before she could escape. “I'm glad you're here,” he whispered, gazing up at her through mostly closed eyes.

Athena hesitated a moment. “I’m glad you’re here now, too,” she admitted. She had been unconsciously wondering and worrying about him for years. That could cease now, for the most part.

But perhaps most importantly, Timothy, at least for the moment, could honestly, truly rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	6. Chapter 6

“Wakey, wakey,” cooed a rough voice from somewhere close.

Timothy cracked open his good eye to find the handsome Dahl soldier peering down at him from where he lay on one of the beds that lined the Crimson Raiders HQ. His first instinct was to panic and possibly burst into tears, but as soon as the soldier saw that he was conscious, he flashed an extremely disarming smile, cutting off Timothy’s panic attack before it could really start.

“Oh, cool, you're up,” he exclaimed, seeming truly pleased. “I was afraid I was gonna have to dump water on you or somethin’. You hungry, bro?”

Timothy gripped the blankets like they would somehow protect him from the armed and extremely dangerous vault hunter. “Y-yes,” he lied. He should have been, but he really wasn't.

“Cool, there're some leftovers on the table that're still warm. Grab 'em before Brick does.”

Not wanting to make the guy angry, Timothy slowly extracted himself from the bed and winced when his head throbbed in protest. His scar was particularly irritated, but that wasn't anything new. He didn't have his Hyperion-issued meds to dull the pain, he realized abruptly. He could probably do without most of the post-op ones, but the thought of going without his antidepressants and painkillers for his scar made him extremely nervous.

Timothy refused to think about that now as he made his way over to the table where a plate of food was waiting for him. He couldn't identify the pile of meat sitting in the middle of the chipped plate, but it smelled edible, so he wasted little time in diving in. Mentally he was in the process of trying to convince himself that he hadn't eaten a legitimate meal in weeks, probably even months, so he should be ravenous. This stuff should taste like mana from Heaven.

Yet, as soon as the food touched his tongue, all he could taste was blood and ashes. The water he’d drank the day prior had tasted just as bad, and now, as he took a desperate swig from the small canteen he found on the table, he realized that he hadn’t imagined it.

He ate and drank nonetheless. Perhaps that was just the way food and water on Pandora tasted, he reasoned, trying not to let his gag reflex get the best of him as he forced another fork-full of slop into his mouth and repeated the process.

Soon enough Timothy turned his attention elsewhere in an attempt to ignore the taste in his mouth. Axton was now sitting at the other end of the table in the process of disassembling his rifle to clean it. He moved with practiced ease, something Timothy had never mastered while cleaning his own guns back on Helios. Guns, especially the more complicated ones, were like puzzles, and Timothy had never been any good at those. Or anything, really.

Just as his thoughts were getting morbid, the door gave a loud noise as swung open and banged against the wall behind it. The red-haired girl - Gaige, Timothy recalled - strolled in with a giant floating robot bringing up the rear like a colorful shadow of death.

Gaige perked up when she noticed his meek presence. "Oh, morning, sleepyhead!" she said, waving at him. "Enjoying the slop some people 'round here like to call food?"

Axton rolled his eyes at her. "It's ground skag meat mixed with those stupid veggies Maya keeps tryin' to grow," he groused. "Those red mushy things."

"Tomatoes, ya nob. They're actually pretty good for you - not that a meat-guzzling frat boy like yourself would know that."

" _Frat boy_? Whatever."

Timothy liked tomatoes. His mom used to grow them in the side garden before her drinking habit took priority over everything. He looked back down at his plate and swallowed hard, mentally scrabbling for reasons why they would taste utterly disgusting to him now. A thousand troubling thoughts rushed through his brain, making his stomach churn and a sweat break out on his brow.

The skag meat must have twisted the flavor, he eventually decided. He'd never had skag before. Surely this was the reason why his mouth currently tasted like literal death.

"You okay there, bro?" Axton asked suddenly, jolting him out of his thoughts. "You look super pale. Skag's safe to eat as long as it's cooked properly, I promise."

"It...it's fine," Timothy choked out, forcing a small smile onto his broken face. "I guess I'm just tired."

Neither hunter looked surprised. "Yesterday was a long day," Axton agreed. "Today's probably not gonna be any easier for you if Lilith gets her way. And she will, 'cos she's stubborn like that."

Gaige made a noise of agreement, as did the floating robot behind her. Timothy took in the machine’s appearance, noting its broad, decorated chest, lack of legs, and the potentially deadly claws on its hands. The robot was nothing like half of the machines Timothy had seen in his travels, but then again, he hadn’t been out much recently.

Gaige noticed his gaze and grinned. "Oops, sorry, how rude of me. This is Deathtrap," she said, stepping aside so that the creature could wave a stiff arm and coo at him in greeting. "DT for short, but only I can call him that."

"Hello, Deathtrap," Timothy offered, smiling shyly at the robot as it trilled at him. "Did you build him yourself?"

"Yep!" Gaige said proudly, puffing out her chest. "He's my BFF. Built him a few years ago for a science fair. Can you believe he only came in third place? Stupid rigged competition."

"That doesn't seem right," Timothy agreed. "Did you give him his own AI? He seems so much more...well, I suppose human isn't the best word to describe him, huh?"

Gaige nodded in understanding. "I like to think of him like the brother I never had," she admitted, reaching out to give Deathtrap a pat on the arm. "My bandit-killing, psycho-slashing brother. Right, DT?"

The 'bot gave a rather proud-sounding trill and hovered around her in a happy circle. Gaige laughed and drew him into a hug - well, as much as she could considering the guy was more than twice her size and girth.

Behind them, Axton scowled. "I thought  _I_ was your bandit-killing, psycho-slashing brother," he groused.

"You're the fleshy one," Gaige supplied, tossing her head. Deathtrap let out a warble and attempted to do the same with his eyeball-face. "Ha, right, DT - and the more annoying one."

"Y'all're shit."

Gaige cackled alongside her robot companion while Axton huffed and went back to cleaning his rifle.

Timothy poked at the remnants of his breakfast with his fork, noting that his bandaged hand was shaking. "W-well, uh, now that all three of you are here, um," he began shakily, "I want to apologize for what happened in Lynchwood. I-I hope you're not mad - "

The girl recoiled as if burned. "Oh, please!" she exclaimed, flapping a dismissive hand at him. "Angry? Why, 'cos some tyrant slapped a mind-controlling slave collar on you and forced you to do his and his equally-if-not-more-psychotic girlfriend's bidding? Psh, sure, I'm furious. But not with you."

Axton was firmly nodding his head throughout Gaige's spiel. "Eridium's a hell of a drug," he agreed. "Literally not your fault. Don't even worry about it."

Timothy felt his face turning red. "Th-thanks," he stuttered, simultaneously relieved and confused by the lack of resistance from the two vault hunters. Perhaps he was just used to Nisha and Wilhelm's type of vault hunting, which involved a lot of violence, murder, and certainly no forgiveness for those who wronged them, even if they were their own teammates.

"Hello," Gaige said suddenly, jerking him from his unpleasant thoughts as she waved a hand in front of his eyes. "Pandora to...to...say, what do you want us calling you?"

Timothy stared at her, confused again. "I...my name?"

The mechromancer had a strange, calm look on her face as returned his gaze, unblinking. "Which is?"

Timothy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wasn't Timothy anymore, he realized quite suddenly. Timothy should have died when he went under the knife, but the poor guy had clung desperately to life even as he masqueraded around Helios as a man named Jack. Now he had no idea who he was.

"I'm...not Jack," was all he could say.

"Not Jack, huh? Is that two words or one?" Gaige asked, half teasing. When he failed to reply, she sobered up, no doubt realizing how serious the conversation had gotten. "Who are you?" she prompted quietly.

The nameless man bit his lip. Who was he indeed? He'd spent many a night lying awake on Helios pondering the very same thing. Eventually, after being forced to play the part of a man he looked and sounded and, on occasion, thought like, a part of him started to think he really was Handsome Jack, and that Timothy Lawrence never really existed in the first place. Now, as he sat contemplating Gaige's question, the same feeling of extreme doubt began to burn a hole through his chest.

"I don't know," he whispered through chattering teeth. Shit, he could feel himself starting to lose it. _Not now, not in front of these people,_ please.

"What about Lawrence?" Axton suggested, slicing through the panic that had been attempting to smother the shivering man across from him. The commando's voice was the very opposite of his: smooth - or as smooth as his naturally gruff voice could get - and quiet. "Not quite Timothy, but not so different, either."

He swallowed hard and contemplated it. The commando had a strong point. He shouldn't forget about his Timothy, not completely. The kid didn't deserve that. Taking his surname as his new name would ensure he wouldn’t be. That and nothing rhymed with Lawrence, so he wouldn't be subjected to any annoying nicknames like Tim-Tam or The Timster or -

"Ooh, can I call you T-Law?" Gaige asked, grinning broadly.

The ridiculous name snapped him out of his morbid thoughts. " _T-Law_?" he repeated, incredulous. "That...that's a new one." He couldn't decide if it was better or worse than the slew of others.

"It that a yes?"

He rolled his good eye. "Lawrence," he said, feeling a great weight lifting off his chest. "My...my name is Lawrence."

Gaige grinned. "Nice to meet you, Lawrence. Now, how's about we get you some new clothes and a haircut? Y'know, to go with your new name and new life."

The idea sounded great, but Lawrence wilted when he realized, "I don't have any money."

She hissed and waved him off. "My treat. Well, the clothes, anyway. We have our own personal hair stylist here that I can blackmail into givin' you a new 'do. Just don't go bonkers, okay?"

He nodded and offered her what he hoped was a grateful smile.

After he finished his breakfast, Gaige took him into town in search of a new wardrobe. It felt like he hadn't been outside in years, so the moment he was hit by a gentle blast of fresh air, he had to stop and just take it in for a moment. He focused on how the wind felt in his hair, the way it smelled - stale and metallic, like blood, but he didn't mind. It made him dizzy with glee.

"You good?" Gaige asked him.

"Yeah. I just feel like I've been locked away for a long time," he admitted. "Feels good to be outside." He went to brush his greasy hair back into place and frowned. "A shower would feel even better."

Gaige cackled. "I bet it would! You can shower after you get your new threads and a haircut," she told him. "Then you'll be all squeaky clean and fresh for when Lilith forces your story out of you."

Lawrence swallowed hard. "Great," he muttered, now feeling like a sacrificial lamb getting pampered and fattened up right before the slaughter. He tried to convince himself that Lilith wasn't asking for much. She probably wouldn't even kill him once she heard all the bullshit and suffering he went through at Jack's hands. Probably.

Sanctuary wasn't that big of a place, Lawrence quickly realized as they reached the end of the small street and came to the literal center of town. Instead of maybe a statue or monument, a huge machine sat in the middle of the circle, chugging away at whatever it was it was doing. People strolled down the streets, some peering into the shops, others just out for a walk. Friends shouted greetings to each other, shopkeepers loudly offered their goods and services, and there were even some scruffy-looking kids darting around their parents while they window-shopped, giggling and completely oblivious to how shitty life was on this garbage planet.

It was so domestic that Lawrence almost had a panic attack. Which was stupid, he told himself as he took some deep, steadying breaths. Freaking out over normalcy - who did that?

Gaige noticed his trembling steps as he brought up the rear. "You _sure_ you're okay? You can just give me your sizes and I'll go get some clothes for you if - "

"No, no," he blurted. He needed this, no matter how anxious it made him. “I'm okay. This is new to me, that's all."

She hummed at him, bobbing her head in understanding. "I getcha. 'Cos, y'know, some people don't really like the whole crowd thing," she said, gesturing to the small clusters of people milling about. "And that's cool, y'know? Some people are like that. And then you have people like me that crave attention and chaos and _anarchy_!"

She howled the word and threw her fists into the air, earning several confused stares from passersby. Lawrence grinned at her, and she returned it, cackling as she took his arm and pulled him down the street towards a small store that was intelligently called "Shirts and Pants."

"Okay, here's the plan," the girl began in a low, overly-dramatic voice as she turned to face Lawrence. "Deathtrap, you keep watch out here. Nobody comes in 'til we're done, got it?"

The robot cooed and saluted in affirmation.

"Law, you grab some new threads, and I'll keep the shopkeeper distracted from your face. No offense."

Lawrence just shrugged and pulled his hood closer around his head. He was fine with that. The last thing he needed right now was to get attacked by an angry resident mistaking him for the man who killed their family. That would surely come later, knowing his luck.

"Make sure you get a coat, too," she added as they walked into the shop. "This planet's weird. One minute it's hotter than a fire skag's ballsack, the next it's so cold I swear my fingers are gonna freeze and fall off. Gotta be prepared for all of it."

Lawrence saluted. While Gaige began to chat with the shopkeeper, he headed over to the nearest rack and began thumbing through the old, half-rusted hangers. He was able to find a few shirts that weren't too stained or riddled with holes, and on another rack he was able to find a pair of jeans that were in pretty good shape. He discovered a dark brown trench coat that fit him nicely despite the bullet holes lining the tail of it or the fact that the edges of the sleeves were burnt and flaking off. They were a little long on him anyway, so he didn't mind. It was probably the best he was going to get.

While Gaige paid for his new threads, Lawrence moved to stand outside with Deathtrap. The fresh air was a relief despite the awful stench. It helped calm his nerves, which were about as frayed as the new coat hanging from his shoulders.

Gaige seemed to think he'd be around for a while, if her comment about Pandoran weather was any indication. A part of him wasn't sure if he wanted to stay in Sanctuary. But where else would he go? Helios was out of the question, even if he was safe from bandits and shitty weather there. He wondered if Opportunity had been fully built by now. Even if it had been, the other vault hunters had probably already burnt it to the ground. Not that Lawrence could blame them.

He sighed, defeated. For now, it looked like Sanctuary would be his temporary home.

Next to him, Deathtrap offered him a concerned beep and gently patted his shoulder with his less-deadly robot hand.

"I'm okay, buddy," he told him, offering him a numb smile. "Just a lotta crap in my head right now."

Deathtrap cocked its eyeball-face and made a confused noise. Lawrence sighed and fumbled for an explanation. It was hard, considering he himself didn't quite know what was wrong.

"I'm so angry," he muttered eventually, glaring down at his scuffed-up boots. Timothy Lawrence used to be this sweet, only moderately sarcastic kid - sarcasm hid the crippling pain of being bullied on a regular basis all through school - and yeah, there were times where he'd lose his temper, but not to this degree. He never felt his burning rage and just pure hatred for literally everything. It would just sneak up on him, like right now, and turn him into this bitter creature.

"I'm angry, and when I'm not angry I'm just - just - crippled with depression," he continued, unable to stop now that he let his walls come down an inch, "and I know that sounds over-exaggerated, but that's how I feel, like I'm _drowning_ under all this stupid sadness and..."

He bit the words off and swallowed the rest back down - a habit he'd acquired from working for a company that didn't care about his mental state of being. No one wanted to hear this, he reminded himself, least of all a goddamned metal killing machine that probably couldn't comprehend something of this caliber.

Thankfully, Gaige stormed out of the shop with two bags of clothes, saving him any more embarrassment. "Freakin' douchebag," the girl snarled, glaring over her shoulder at the store entrance. "Five hundred dollars for everything! I've bought guns for less!"

Lawrence paled as he took the bags of clothing from her. "I'm sorry - "

"No, no, I'm not mad at you," Gaige told him, waving off his apologies. "See, this is why I have Dad sending me my clothes from Eden. I get that these guys are dirt-poor and desperate to survive, but jeez-us."

He perked up as excitement blossomed in his chest, smothering the anger and sadness and anxiety for a moment. "You're from Eden too?" he asked.

"Well, Eden-5, but they're all basically the same, right?"

No. The higher the number, the more wild and...well, _Pandoran_ the planet got. But he didn't want to bring that up now. As different as the Eden planets were socially and politically, they were all more or less the same when it came to everything else.

"Do you ever miss it?" he asked her as they slowly began to walk down the street. A cluster of children darted between them, but Lawrence barely noticed, still too entranced at the idea of being near someone from his side of the galaxy. "The weather, the people, everything?"

"You mean all the stuff that made Eden boring?" Gaige snorted. "Not really. I mean, yeah, the seasons were a little more stable and predictable, but Eden-5 had some serious issues with their police force that made coming here a freakin' godsend. Y'know, since Deathtrap accidentally murdered my rival in that competition I mentioned earlier, I'd probably be rotting away in some prison if I had stayed there - no trial, no mercy."

Deathtrap made a vaguely sorry-sounding noise that was definitely more sarcastic than honest. Gaige sent him a smirk over her shoulder before she continued.

"I do miss my parents, though. Dad especially."

"You're lucky to have them," Lawrence murmured. Nobody seemed to have decent parents nowadays.

"What about you?" she asked after a moment of silence. "Do you miss Eden? Your parents?"

"All the freakin' time," he muttered sadly, glaring at the dirty ground. "Though legally, Timothy Lawrence is dead. I belong to Hyperion and no longer have a home planet or parents."

"Screw the law!" Gaige exclaimed, pumping her fists in the air. "See, this is why anarchy is so much better. No rules, no cops - all freedom, baby!"

Lawrence forced a small grin onto his aching face. “Yeah, I suppose there are some perks to it.”

Gaige was a good kid, Lawrence concluded as she snagged his arm and began to drag him towards one of the small houses that lined the street by the Crimson Raiders HQ. Kind of reminded him of his youngest sister, who was in actuality not so young anymore.

"Maya should be ready for you by now," Gaige said. "I gave her all the Eridium I found on my last mission, so she owes me one."

Lawrence ignored the odd twisting sensation in his stomach at the mention of the mineral and instead asked, "Who's Maya?"

"The blue-haired - oh, that's right, you haven't met her yet." Gaige grinned at him. "She's cool, don't worry."

Lawrence was great at worrying, so that's exactly what he proceeded to do as Gaige dragged him through the front door of the building without knocking.

"The fun has arrived!" she called by way of greeting.

Inside the front room sitting on the edge of a table sharpening a pair of scissors was the most beautiful woman Lawrence had ever seen. She was a siren, if her spiraling blue tattoos swirling up her arm was any indication, which immediately set a wave of wariness upon his current feeling of attraction, crushing it back down before it had a chance to truly form.

Maya pursed her lips and turned to Gaige. "You're lucky we were briefed on him before you just strolled in here," she said. "I might've accidentally sent him into another dimension. Or, just, y'know, shot him in the face."

Lawrence swallowed hard and immediately averted his gaze. He didn't know much about sirens, other than the fact that they were basically the most dangerous superhumans in the universe. He had no doubts Maya could do exactly what she was threatening to do.

"Maya, this is Lawrence," Gaige said, gesturing to the grown man cowering behind her. "He's, uh, a little nervous, so try to be nice."

"I'm always nice," the siren said, smiling sweetly. She patted the ratty chair between her legs. "Have a seat, friend. Let's get this over with."

Hesitantly Lawrence lowered himself into the chair and gripped the arms of it until his knuckles turned white. His heart was beating wildly in his throat and it only got worse when Maya attempted to run her fingers through his tangled, greasy mop of hair.

"What would you like done?" she asked, keeping her voice blessedly soft.

"I..." Lawrence's voice cracked. "Wh-whatever you want."

"Sorry, that’s not an option. Lilith told us you spent the last year or so unable to make a single choice for yourself. It's high time we change that, don't you think?"

Lawrence's breathing became faster and harsher. "I-I...just...chop off the long bits. Make it more even, I guess." He'd been dying to get rid of that goddamn pompadour since they forced him to style it that way. That would be a good start, he decided, trying to calm himself down before he passed out. This was a good thing.

Maya hummed in agreement, scooped up a generous portion of his hair between her finger, and snipped it away. The two-inch-long chunk drifted down in front of his eyes and landed in his lap.

Lawrence's shuddering increased tenfold. His tainted fingers dug rivets into the arms of the chair in an attempt to keep himself still, but his anxiety consumed him. Jack was going to be so angry, he thought absurdly.

"Stop," he choked out. "I can't do this."

"Can't stop now," Maya told him calmly as she cut off another bit. "You'll look dumb with half your hair gone."

He sucked in a desperate sob. "He's going to be so mad," he whimpered.

"Handsome Jack's dead, Lawrence," Gaige said quietly as she reached over to lay her metal hand across his trembling knuckles. "He can't hurt you anymore."

Lawrence bit his lip to try to muffle another sob as the snipping of the scissors filled his ears. More and more hair drifted down onto the floor and his lap, a decent portion of it streaked with a substantial amount of gray. He squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to watch the pile grow.

"So where are you from?" Maya asked suddenly.

Lawrence cracked his eyes open. "Uh...E-Eden."

"Is it nice there? I was born on Athenas, and I've only ever been to Pandora."

Another clump drifted past his face, but he was too distracted by Maya's question to be too bothered by it this time. "It's...it has its moments," he said quietly. "It's mostly a farming planet. Grew up with a bunch of chickens, some goats, and a horse named Sir Kicks-A-Lot. You, um, can probably guess why."

He felt more than heard Maya's chuckle. "I read that Eden has oceans the color of sapphires," she said. “And that when the sun hits it in the evenings, the water turns to fire.”

Lawrence forced a wet laugh out of his chest. "Wh-where did you hear that? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel."

The siren shrugged. "I might have mixed something up," she admitted. "I've been reading those Play of Chairs novels in between missions.”

"Y-you read A Play of Chairs?" Lawrence blurted before he could stop himself. “Me too! I only read up to book two before...before.”

"There are four books now,” Maya informed him. “And I think the ECHO show has nearly caught up, though I'm a few episodes behind."

He groaned. "Gosh, I'm probably two or three seasons behind the show now," he said. Some more hair drifted onto his lap; he batted it away. "I forgot all about it."

"I have recordings you can borrow, if you want. The books, too. It would be nice to talk to people about something other than guns and loot for a change.”

Lawrence cracked a wet smile. "I’d appreciate it. Thanks."

Gaige blew a raspberry at both of them from her spot on the floor next to Lawrence. "Wow, lookit you nerds bonding over something lame like books," she teased. “What’s next, joining in on that stupid tabletop game Tina likes to play on the weekends?”

“Tabletop?” Lawrence gasped, shooting her an excited glance. “I haven’t played Bunkers and Badasses since college! Who’s Tina? Do you think she’d let me play? I already have a character and everything!”

Gaige was laughing too hard to reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	7. Chapter 7

Lawrence was so knee-deep in discussing Sophie’s character development throughout book two of the Play of Chairs series with Maya that he didn’t even notice when she set the scissors down and brushed the wayward strands of hair off his shoulders.

“I mean, yeah, she started off a little annoying,” Lawrence was in the middle of saying, “but she was just a kid, y’know? I don’t think _I_ would’ve been able to deal with half the stuff she’s gone through - and I’m sure it’s only gotten worse for her as the story’s gone on, right?”

Maya nodded, humming. “Not nearly as bad as it is for her right now in the show,” she said sadly, nose wrinkling. “Poor girl.”

“If you two dweebs could stop being dweebs for a sec,” Gaige said suddenly. Lawrence turned to face her just as she let out a triumphant, "Tah-dah!"

Before he could prepare himself, Gaige placed a large mirror into his line of vision. He blinked, shocked at the sight of himself. He hadn't seen his own face in years, and the sight of it now was just as upsetting as he thought it would be.

Though his hair was different now - more like Axton’s, cut super short around back and sides with slightly longer strands on top - he still wore Jack's face, if battered and bruised and branded worse than ever before. His eyes were surrounded by scars that faintly glowed a grayish-purple color, and sprouting from the scar around his blind eye was a swirl that drifted up his brow before disappearing into his hairline. He looked ten years older than he truly was, with his stress wrinkles and graying temples.

"Oh," was all he could say as his eyes filled with tears.

Maya bit her lip and gently ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to flatten it or fluff it up or who knows what. "That bad? I thought I did an okay job," she said.

"Yeah," Gaige hastily agreed. "I think you look really handsome."

Lawrence sucked in a wet gasp before he plunged his fist through the mirror, showering pieces of it down onto the floor by his feet. He went to strike it again, blinded by the rage and sadness and just crippling mental anguish that he'd been trying so hard to repress since he woke up, but Maya had already latched onto him like a goddamned octopus, keeping his one arm pinned to his side with her legs and his other frozen mid-strike.

"Go get Athena," she told Gaige calmly, like she restrained madmen all the time and this was nothing but a normal day for her. At the younger girl's frantic, worried look, Maya told her, "We'll be fine. Just hurry."

Gaige darted out the door screeching for the gladiator, but Lawrence barely noticed, too absorbed in trying to murder the man staring back at him through the pieces of the mirror still clinging to the frame. Maya was muttering things to him, but he didn't hear her, didn't feel her arms and legs coiled around his trembling frame.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt someone else lay their hands on him, this time cupping his face and gently tapping one of his cheeks in an attempt to snap him out of his rage.

"Lawrence," Athena said.

He blinked and came back to himself. The mirror was gone, the remnants crunching under Athena's boots where she stood in front of him. He went lax, giving Maya reason to loosen her grip on him and withdraw.

"I'm not him," he whimpered, leaning desperately into Athena’s hands like a fucking dog looking for praise and attention.

"We know," she told him. "I like your haircut."

Lawrence sniffed hard. "Me too."

A few more tense minutes passed before Lawrence felt capable of getting to his feet. Athena kept a careful hand on his shoulder until she was sure he wouldn't face-plant into the glass shards scattered around them.

"You should take a shower," Maya suggested gently. "Wash all those wayward hairs off before they start making you itch."

He nodded and moved to leave, but paused when he noticed how pale Gaige was. "I'm...sorry for this," he said to both of them. He wanted to say more - _I'm sorry for ruining everything, I'm sorry for being so fucked in the head_ \- but knew none of it mattered.

"It's okay," Gaige said quietly. "Just...feel better."

"I'll try," he said hoarsely, throwing the empty promise on the ground between them before he darted out the door. Lawrence immediately flipped his hood up, wary of people seeing him even with his new haircut. Despite the disguise, he still felt exposed and raw.

"Lawrence," Athena barked, jerking him out of his thoughts. He froze in the middle of the street and turned to send her a questioning look since his mouth seemed to be having problems functioning at the moment.

The gladiator was regarding him with a somewhat worried expression. "Where are you going?" she asked.

He stared at her, suddenly aware of the fact that he was standing in the middle of an unknown street in a portion of town he hadn't been to before. "I don't know."

It was like he was on autopilot. He could see his limbs moving, but couldn't feel them, couldn't tell them where to go or what to do. Was the collar still on him, controlling his every move and muddling his thoughts? He touched a hand to his neck to feel for it, but he couldn’t feel anything past the bandages on his hands.

"I think you're in shock," Athena murmured, moving towards him. Louder, she said, "Come on, I'll take you to the showers back at HQ. They actually have hot water there, if you can believe it. I'm sure that will help you feel a little better."

What would make him feel better was if he just dropped dead right then and there. What did he care if he died? He'd be dead. He wouldn't care about anything anymore.

He said none of that and allowed Athena to guide him back to HQ. Nobody seemed to be around, he noted with relief as she brought him to the shower room that took up a portion of the building's basement. Athena flicked the light switch on the outside of the door, flooding the room with light. There were three stalls lining one wall and some old, rusty lockers lining the wall across from them. A crumbling half-divider split up the actual showers from the dressing portion of the room. It was crummy-looking, but it certainly beat not having any water all all.

"Hold it," Athena said, stopping him before he could wander inside. She snagged his wrist and held it up in all its bandaged glory. "I think these can come off now."

"Sure," his mouth said, "let's just add to the trauma while we're on a roll."

The gladiator glared halfheartedly at him, but said nothing as she began to unravel the bandage on his right arm. The wrappings came away easily from his forearm, exposing his ugly flesh. Through his pale skin he could see a few veins that were still tainted with Eridium. The closer they got to his hands, the worse it became, growing thicker until his very skin changed into that sickly, purple-gray color. Athena removed the last of it, exposing his equally purple-gray fingers and palms.

Lawrence wasn't surprised. Disturbed, yes, but not surprised. The Lost Legion had looked similar after being in contact with Eridium. The only mildly shocking thing about his current state was that he wasn't glowing, but Lawrence supposed that was because he didn't have any of the mineral in his body at the moment. All he had was dead remnants clogging his veins.

Athena shouldn't be surprised either, yet she stood there staring at his arm like she'd never seen it before. With a distinct air of desperation, she unwrapped his other arm faster than the first, exposing the other equally tainted limb. She turned it back and forth slightly, intently observing his wrist and forearm until Lawrence pulled the limb out of her tightening grasp, worried.

"What?" he rasped, trembling under her gaze. Was there something he wasn't seeing? Was he even more hideous and broken than he originally thought?

"It's nothing," she said finally, bending over to scoop the bandages off the floor. A few thin black strings fluttered from the bundle, which she noticed and also picked up. When she righted herself, her expression was tight. "Go shower. I'll be around when you're done."

 _I don't need you_ , he wanted to snap. He simultaneously loved and hated her for her desire to hover over him like a mother hen. It made him feel wanted, it made him feel worthless, like a burden.

She was halfway out the door when a thought occurred to her. "Oh, and, uh, mind the hole in the back left corner," she said, gesturing to it. "They left the rest of the room behind when the city became airborne."

He froze. Suddenly he could feel everything again, starting with a rush of anxiety as he stuttered out, "Ah - airborne?"

"Yeah," Athena said, taking note of his tense stance. "Sanctuary's a floating city. We're, uh, hovering over the Highlands right now."

"Oh, god," Lawrence whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. Of course it was. That was just his kind of luck. "Okay. Okay. Thank you, Athena. I'll be fine. And I'll stay away from the goddamned hole in the floating city."

She hesitated in the doorway for a second and looked as if she wanted to say something, but decided against it and disappeared out into the hallway.

Lawrence stood in the middle of the shower room for a long time. He brought his hands up to his face and stared at his gray palms, at the faded purple swirls that danced up his arms. They almost looked fake. Dead, like he was suffering from a case of extreme frostbite.

When he clenched his fingers into a fist just to make sure that his limbs indeed did function, he found that he couldn't feel it. A pang of desperation hit him, causing him to sink his nails into the flesh of his palms. He clenched as hard as he could, and while light red blood bloomed from the crescent-shaped wounds his nails left behind, he couldn't feel the stinging pain that came with it.

"Don't think about it," he rasped desperately, dropping his arms. "Just stop thinking, Lawrence."

He began to slowly disrobe, being careful not to look down at himself. If the rest of his body was as bad off as his face and hands, he didn't want to know.

He dumped his clothes in a pile by the door, not caring if they got even dirtier than they already were, and made his way into the stall farthest from the doorway. His gaze caught on the hole in the ground to the right, and a number of sensations seized him, the prominent one being fear, the second one morbid curiosity.

Being the fool that he was, he decided to creep closer to the damn thing. It wasn't like he didn't trust Athena's word, but he still had to see for himself. It wasn't often one got to be in a floating city, after all. Helios didn't count.

He got maybe a foot from the edge of the gaping, half-crumbling hole when his knees gave out. A wave of dizziness overcame him, making him sway unsteadily on his haunches. Instead of doing the smart thing and getting the hell away from the hole, he let his eyes flutter shut. He wondered what dying from a fall was like. A fall from this height would surely be instant death. Messy for those unfortunate to stumble across his broken, splattered corpse, but painless for him.

"Hey, you all right, bro?"

A large hand fell upon his bare shoulder, steadying him. His eyes snapped open, and when he whipped around to face the intruder, he was both startled, mortified, and strangely excited to find Axton standing there, naked as the day he was born.

“Bro?” Axton questioned again when Lawrence made no move to reply.

“Sorry. Just...dizzy,” Lawrence replied quickly, forcing his gaze to remain glued to the commando’s pinched eyes.

Axton hummed, clearly not convinced, but didn’t nag him about it as he made his way towards the stalls. Lawrence hesitantly went to follow him, mindful of his own nudity.

"That one's busted," Axton told him as he approached the shower closest to the hole in the ground. "Its piping got torn out when Sanctuary took off."

That left the middle one. Keeping his gaze glued to the scummy tiles beneath his bare feet, Lawrence shuffled into the stall and fumbled with the knobs of the shower. The pipes rumbled for a moment before a spray of hot water jolted out of the shower head. He didn't bother testing it before sticking his head beneath the spray. It turned his skin an unhealthy shade of red, but he barely felt it.

“Hot enough for ya, bro?”

Lawrence started at the sound of the commando's voice. "Uh, what?" he mumbled, glancing over towards the other man's stall. He caught sight of broad, tanned shoulders before his gaze snapped back to the tile floor.

"Sorry. Is it taboo for two dudes to talk to each other while they shower like it is with the whole 'don't look at your friend's dick at the urinal' thing? ‘Cos I do that, too. Fair warning."

Lawrence shrugged. He just wasn't one for conversation these days.

He sensed movement to his left and glanced over to find Axton standing against the wall between them, his arms folded over the top of it and his chin resting on them. His hair hung limply on his furrowed brow, dark from the water and still a little sudsy from the shampoo.

"How you doin'? Seriously," he asked, face carefully trained into a mostly blank expression, no doubt in an attempt to not scare Lawrence away.

Lawrence broke eye-contact and went back to staring at the water as it swirled down the drain at his feet. He wished he could do the same. Just disappear.

"I was going to kill myself," he said, mouth moving without his permission. His voice was surprisingly even and calm, which contrasted sharply with Axton's wide eyed expression. "I mean, I think. If you hadn't shown up when you did, I might've fallen down that hole and been okay with it." He hesitated. "It's...strange. I don't think I want to die. I just don't want to be alive anymore."

"I've been there," Axton admitted quietly after a short pause. "Though usually 'cos I fucked up somethin' physically and was in a lotta pain." He subconsciously rubbed at the scar that streaked across his strong jaw. "War can fuck a dude up just as bad in the brain, though. I ain't gotta problem killin' people, especially if they're comin' at me guns blazin', but fuck all if I'll ever be okay with seein' my friends get blown up or torn to shreds. That's the kinda shit that'll keep me up at night."

"How did you deal with it?"

Axton shrugged his shoulders. "Dahl didn't offer much in the way of therapy, so I was kinda on my own. I had a few friends and significant others to help me through the sleepless nights and anxiety attacks and shit. We were all in the same boat at the time, so that helped, too. Misery loves company, yeah? But I don't think my pain can compare to yours."

"No," Lawrence agreed quietly.

"As cheesy as it sounds, talking about your issues does help," the commando said, turning back to finish his shower. "That and booze. And sex. Both of which you can find in ample supply here," he said, turning to wink at Lawrence, only to immediately get soap in his eye. "Ow! Goddammit!"

A small huff of laughter escaped Lawrence as the commando floundered for a towel. After a moment of quiet contemplation, Lawrence reached for the bar of soap sitting on the nearby shelf and began to wash himself.

~

He exited the showers a few minutes after Axton, who had still been grumbling and rubbing his burnt eye. Lawrence did feel a little better from both the shower and the talk he had with the commando, and putting on a new set of clothes from Gaige only further boosted his mood.

He ran into the young mechromancer as he exited the basement. She looked up at him and smiled thinly, clearly still on edge from his panic attack. He hated that she looked at him as if he was a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. Not that he could blame her.

"I"m sorry for earlier." He took a shuddering breath and explained, "When I was working for Jack, I tried really hard never to look at my face. I learned how to style my hair without a mirror and relied on others to tell me if something was messed up. Seeing my face now, all damaged and scarred and hideous and worse than before...I guess it just freaked me out."

Gaige's eyes were wide. "Well, uh, you feeling any better now?"

"I'm...a little better, yeah," he said, offering her a small, tired smile. He was surprised that it was actually genuine. "Not great. But I'll get there eventually, I hope."

She grinned at him. "That's the spirit. This is crappy timing, but do you feel like telling your story? Lilith's been riding my ass all morning about it. I'm afraid if we put it off any longer, she'll force it out of you, and that won't do anybody any good."

He remembered what Axton said about talking about his issues. He certainly wasn't looking forward to sitting in front of everyone talking about things he'd much rather permanently forget, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter. It would do him good, he tried to assure himself.

"All right,” he agreed. “Right now?"

"The sooner the better." Gaige hopped to her feet. "C'mon, I bet everyone's gonna love your new haircut. Hold on a sec." She reached up, prompting him to lean a little so that she could reach his head, and ruffled the damp locks until they stuck up in all directions. She jumped back and grinned at him, satisfied. "There! Now you look like some hardcore punk rock artist!"

"I cut my hair to get rid of the gravity-defying look," he said, but he was grinning too as they headed towards the stairs.

"Please, you had a _pompadour_. Pomps are like, so-o-o ten centuries ago. Handsome Jack was a giant old rakk turd for thinking that shit was ever in style. Now you look hella rad and ready to rock!"

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome, nerd."

Name-calling was a definite sign of friendship, Lawrence noted, feeling his smile grow ten times in size. He felt bubbly at the very prospect of having someone he could call a friend and couldn't help the small noise of glee that escaped him as he stumbled to a stop at the top of the stairs.

"You good?" Gaige asked him, turning to flash him a worried look.

"I'm - good," he told her, flashing her a genuine grin. He just wanted to preserve this happy feeling before it got sucked out of him again. "For the first time in a while, I'm...I'm good."

The smile returned to Gaige's face. "Well, _good_! Too bad Lilith's gonna ruin it for you."

Lawrence shrugged, knowing that would be the case. As apprehensive as he was, he also felt ready, or as ready as he would ever be to talk about all the shit Jack did to him. He could do it.

He followed Gaige into the meeting room of HQ. Lilith, Mordecai, Brick, Axton, and Maya were already there - faces that Lawrence was already mostly at ease with by now. Athena was there too, guarding the empty seat next to her. The sight of her eased more tension out of Lawrence’s shoulders.

"May I present to you," Gaige began loudly, gesturing behind her, "our new BFF, Lawrence!"

Lawrence felt his face turn red from the number of eyes suddenly trained on him. He saw several half-smiles crack at his new look; self-consciously he lifted his hand and ran his fingers through his short, clean locks. Even Athena looked pretty pleased as she gave him a genuine smile, which he eagerly returned.

"Lookin' good, kid," Axton said, casting him an approving look complete with an eyebrow wiggle that left Lawrence blushing harder and pondering a great many things.

Before he could think too deeply on that subject, he turned to Lilith and told her, "I'm ready to share my story."

She arched a brow, clearly surprised by his willingness to speak. "All right. We're listening."

Lawrence lowered himself into his chair and took a deep breath. When he exhaled, words followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	8. Chapter 8

When Timothy woke, the first thing he noticed was the stale taste in his mouth, quickly followed by the fact that he wasn't frozen in a tube somewhere deep within the dark, twisted bowels of Helios. He was lying in a hospital bed staring up at the bland white ceilings while machines around him beeped steadily, alerting him to the fact that he was still alive.

For a moment, he was seized with fear. What if he'd just woken up after being frozen for years? Beside him the machine's beeping became louder and faster the more panicked he got, and soon enough a nurse came in to check on him.

"What year is it?" he rasped, only to blanch at how horrible his voice sounded. His voice modulator had been on the fritz for a while, but this was just awful.

"It's only been a week since your operation," the nurse assured him in a falsely cheerful tone. "You are recovering nicely, Jack."

"Op..." Feeling ill, he trailed off and let his head fall back against the pillows. What was it with him and getting forced into non-consensual surgery? Did he have a sign permanently stapled to his back that said "Hello, please force me into life-changing operations"?

The nurse checked his vitals, fluffed his pillows, and then retreated back into the hall, leaving him staring at the ceiling again, trapped with his own thoughts.

Eventually his morbid curiosity got the better of him and he lifted a shaking arm to prod at the side of his head. Even with the morphine in his body, the skin there still felt tight. The metal band in his temple was cold and hard against his fingertips. He didn't know how ECHO ports worked outside of the obvious. He didn't want to imagine what the damn thing looked like, or what the inside of his brain now resembled. He imagined that much of his it looked the inside of a computer. His stomach rolled at the thought.

How much more of him was going to change without his permission? Would Jack keep going until he was finally satisfied with how his double looked? Once the AI was inserted into him, Jack would surely be satisfied with his overall attitude. Timothy wasn't sure how he was going to weasel his way out of _that_ one.

Maybe it's for the best, he thought, sniffing. He had nothing left to live for anyway. Jack had probably made good on his promise to "speak" to his mother. He had nowhere to go, nobody to turn to. If Athena was lucky, she'd gotten off Helios in one piece and was with Janey now.

He hoped she was safe. He hoped she was _happy_. Happiness was so hard to find in this universe. If there was anyone who deserved to be happy and safe, it was Athena.

Timothy drifted in and out of consciousness for the remainder of the day. Doctors and nurses periodically came in to check on him, but none of them really bothered speaking to him until the next morning. A nurse was unhooking him from his morphine drip when a doctor approached him with a fake smile.

"Good news," the doctor said as he began to reattach his mask to his face. Timothy jerked, but didn't try to fight him. There was no point. "You are being released today. Handsome Jack has work for you in his office."

"Work?” Timothy echoed, confused. "Um...I thought I was supposed to be receiving an AI? Y'know, that's the whole reason why I was forced to get this chunk of metal in my brain."

The doctor's smile remained plastered to his pale face. "Handsome Jack's orders," was all he said on that subject. "You might experience a headache or two over the next couple of days, but that's a normal side effect of an ECHO port transplant. If the pain worsens or goes on for more than a week, please let us know."

Timothy frowned. What the hell was Jack playing at now? Was he just toying with him?

Probably. The bastard loved doing that.

The doctor left, allowing Timothy to slowly get dressed and make his way down the hall towards the front lobby. His head pounded a little at the change in height, but he got over it soon enough and was able to make it relatively hassle-free back to his apartment - because _like hell_ he was going to Jack's office after all this bullshit. The job could wait.

On the way there, he kept feeling the metal ridge of the port through his mask, unnerved. The doctor hadn't told him what this meant for him now. Was he more machine than man at this point?

Once safely buried under the blankets on his bed, he brought out his ECHO device and logged onto the ECHOnet to research the subject. Unfortunately Hyperion severely restricted net access, blocking everything in the search engine that wasn’t strictly Hyperion-related. Everything Timothy found on ECHO eye transplants was either classified information or so technical and painful to try to decipher that he wound up throwing the ECHO device aside. His head was starting to hurt for a reason other than the brain surgery.

His thoughts drifted reluctantly to Wilhelm. If anyone knew about cybernetic implants, it was him. But Timothy hadn't willingly spoken to the guy since before he got branded. Even on that mission they'd been given shortly after, Timothy had kept his mouth firmly shut and his mind on everything but the asshole next to him, which had been easy enough to do, considering the fact he'd been in so much pain it was all he'd been able to focus on.

Timothy shut his eyes and shuddered as he was immediately bombarded with images of the past. He could still feel Wilhelm's huge hands crushing his shoulders to the floor, could still see the cyborg's impassive face as Timothy screamed and pleaded with him not to let Jack hurt him. Timothy could understand Nisha not giving a shit - the woman got off on other people's pain and occasionally her own. But Wilhelm? The guy was scary, but he'd always come to his defense on the battlefield.

Then again, Timothy relented, he’d gotten paid for that. And he'd gotten paid for helping Jack disfigure him.

"Stupid," Timothy muttered wetly as he curled into an even tighter ball beneath the blankets. Money was stupid. Once he was done paying his stupid student loans, he swore he was going to become a hermit and live off the land somewhere far away from this shithole portion of space. Maybe. Yeah, right.

With the help of the pain meds the doctor had given him, he managed to doze off for a few more hours. A headache woke him up, but a few more pills remedied that, unfortunately leaving him feeling more exhausted than before. With no hope of any more sleep claiming him in the near future, he decided to hell with it and crawled out of bed to visit Wilhelm.

He found the cyborg in his unlocked apartment for once. The Enforcer's place was simple and way less extravagant than Timothy’s was - a one-room studio that was bare save for a bed that looked rarely used and a workbench that Wilhelm was currently hunched over. He was tinkering with his arm - the one he'd gotten as an upgrade for helping Jack brand Timothy's face.

"Wilhelm," Timothy said, lingering in the doorway.

The cyborg grunted. The guy had never been much for conversation.

Timothy sighed. "I need your help."

That got the dude's attention. "What is it?" he asked, turning to face him. The idea of a mission was too good for him to pass up.

"I need information," Timothy said, trying to keep his voice level. He could feel a minute trembling in the back of his throat, but thankfully it was from anger and not from fear. He didn't have to be afraid of this asshole anymore. The worse he could do was break his neck.

"On?"

"A certain cybernetic operation. Ever heard of something called an ECHO port? Goes in the side of your head?"

Wilhelm nodded. "Thought about getting one myself. Why?"

Timothy unhooked the top left corner of his mask to reveal the ECHO port in all its shiny, skin-swelling glory. Wilhelm's eyebrows shot up at the sight, no doubt out of jealousy rather than pity.

"What does this entail, exactly?" Timothy asked him, hastily clipping his mask back on. "Am I - am I like, a computer now or what?"

"Kinda. A good portion of your brain is wired up so you can decipher the crap you plug into the port."

So he _was_ effectively a cyborg now. There were metal bits in his brain - wires, nodes and who knows what else. The thought made him want to start ripping at his scalp. Instead, he thanked the other man, turned on his heel, and moved to leave.

"Payment," Wilhelm growled.

Timothy paused in the doorway long enough to sneer at him over his shoulder and spit, "Your _payment_ is being allowed to get away with what you did to me. Get bent, asshole."

He expected animosity, but Wilhelm just smirked and said, "Y'know, you're beginning to sound a lot like him," and that somehow hurt worse than anything else the guy could have said or done in retaliation.

"Well, that _is_ what he hired me to do," Timothy pointed out before he stepped out into the hall.

He remained calm as he returned to his apartment. Then, like a rubber band pulled too tight, he snapped; he hurled himself into his bathroom, ripped off his mask, and curled up in the tub under a cold blast, crying rather loudly to himself as the water soaked through his clothes. He had read somewhere that crying was supposed to actually help ease stress, but when he finally shucked off his wet clothes and dragged himself back to his bedroom, he couldn't fall asleep, too strung out and traumatized by the realization of what he was now. His wet hair left him shivering violently, even after he had burrowed into the thick blankets and wrapped himself up into a protective cocoon.

When that failed to calm him, he turned to the only thing that he knew for sure would knock him out: booze. He sent for a cart-load of the best stuff Helios had to offer and wasted little time in downing half of the first bottle. Whatever it was burned the shit out of his throat, but he managed to keep it down and swallow the rest of it. By the time he moved onto the next bottle, his vision was swimming.

He probably should have eaten something before doing this, he realized belatedly, but it was too late now. It was too late for a lot of shit.

He knocked back the last of his second bottle, threw it across the room where it shattered with a satisfying pop on the floor, and reached for another.

~

Some unknown time later, Timothy clawed his way back into consciousness. His stomach was twisting unpleasantly and his head immediately started protesting the fact that he had even bothered to open his eyes.

The first thing his fuzzy mind noticed was that there was a puddle of half-dried vomit on the blanket next to his head, which certainly helped to explain the awful taste in his mouth and why he felt like death warmed over. At least he'd passed out in bed.

Rolling over, he fumbled for his array of meds on the bedside table and swallowed them all dry, not caring whether or not he should take them with alcohol. The thought didn't even cross his mind until he was showered, dressed in his still-damp clothes and already halfway out the door, but he just shrugged it off. He'd be okay. Probably. Who cares.

It took approximately six years to make it to Jack's office, or so it felt. Timothy wasn't feeling any better than he had before and practically had to drag himself over the threshold.

Jack's desk loomed in the distance, as did the figure standing behind it. The alcohol still in Timothy's system had done a pretty good job of muting the panic he otherwise would have been swimming in on the walk over, but now, as he slowly approached Jack’s desk, he felt like he was ten years old again, on his way to the principal's office after some douchebag classmates framed him for putting frogs in the girls' bathroom.

That panic quickly began to morph into confusion as he grew closer and realized the man standing behind the desk flipping through some files was not Jack. He was a tall, very skinny older man wearing an orange-striped suit and a hideous teal tie. His light hair was in the process of declining, and what was left of it was curled up into what resembled devil horns. The light shining in from the window behind him only amplified them, and when the man finally sent a glance his way, Timothy was sure that his eyes flashed red.

"Good afternoon, sir," the man said in a deep, accented voice that didn't quite fit his overall face and body type. "I expected you yesterday, but I suppose I should be glad you decided to show up at all."

"And I was expecting Handsome Jack," Timothy fired back, already on the way to disliking this dude. "Who the hell are you? Why are you in Jack's office?"

"Jeffrey Blake, recently-promoted Vice President of Hyperion, at your service. Handsome Jack has left me in charge during his absence."

Timothy winced, suddenly apprehensive. He thought Jack would've just overthrown everyone and seized complete and total power, but he figured common sense won over in the end. He wouldn't be able to run this corporation on threats and charm alone. Of course there would be others - others who were either eager to be doormats for the tyrant-in-training or just as psychotic as he was. Timothy didn't know which category this guy fell into, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to like him regardless.

"Nice to meet you, um, sir," he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

"No need for that," Mr. Blake told him, moving to come around the desk. He gestured to one of the chairs in front of him, and Timothy slowly carried out his silent order. "Handsome Jack does not address me as 'sir' and as his body double I expect you to do the same, at least while in the company of others."

Timothy nodded stiffly. "M'kay," he mumbled, digging the heel of his palm into his one working eye.

Mr. Blake stared at him for a long moment. "Pardon me, but...are you hungover?" he asked eventually.

Timothy made a dismissive noise. "Still drunk."

The older man let out the tiniest of long-suffering sighs. "Well, that won't do. I suggest you nip that little habit in the bud before it starts interfering with your work. I do hate to lecture, but regardless of who you were expecting to meet here, a CEO - even just his body double - should always be on time and sober no matter where he's headed."

"Sure, thanks, _Dad_ , I'll keep that in mind when I start giving a crap about this corporation," Timothy's mouth snapped. He froze, thinking that his stupid, half-drunk mouth was finally going to get him in some serious shit, but Mr. Blake just cracked a small smirk at his outburst.

"While your attitude is on the right level in regards to sass, that's not something Handsome Jack would say about our beloved company. If he were here, I'm afraid he would punish you."

"I'm not Jack," Timothy almost blurted. Instead, he said, "Yeah, well, he's not, so I guess we're done here."

"Ah, ah," Mr. Blake tutted. "Handsome Jack has left orders for you."

"The AI, right?" Timothy stood up and rubbed his palms on his thighs. "All right, let's get this show on the road, then. C'mon, just jam it right in my noggin."

The older man cocked a brow, amused. "Oh, what a surprise. That eager to end your life?"

Timothy shrugged. "Better than dealing with Jack on a regular basis."

Mr. Blake hummed, though it was unclear whether it was in agreement or just in acknowledgement. "Yes, well, unfortunately, the AI is not yet ready. Handsome Jack doesn't want you being put on ice until it is."

"Okay," Timothy drawled, frowning, "what does he want me to do, then?"

The man tilted his head, unblinking. "Why, your job, of course. You are Handsome Jack, are you not? You have a space station to run."

Timothy swallowed and averted his gaze. "I don't know how to do that," he groused. He was a creative writing major, for fuck's sake. Business management and numbers and all the shit that Jack was vaguely good at were things that literally blew Timothy's mind.

"You will learn. Handsome Jack has hired some of the best teachers and scholars on this side of the galaxy to help you."

"Great," Timothy snapped, throwing his hands up. He was being sent back to school. Awesome. "Cool, great - hey, where's the nearest airlock? I'm just gonna do the universe a favor and hurl myself into space."

"There's no need for theatrics," Mr. Blake told him, sounding like a disappointed parent. "It won't be as difficult as you imagine. You have that ECHO port now. You might as well put it to good use."

The vice-president reached into the pocket of his pressed suit and pulled out a small, cylindrical drive. It was about four inches long, and when he clicked the flat end of it, a thin, pointed needle about half as long popped out of the other end.

Mr. Blake held it out to him. "To save time, I've compiled numerous lectures of said professors and transcribed them into data that your port will be able to then turn back into information that you will be able to understand. In essence, you'll be downloading all of the information you need into your brain. Instant knowledge, and none of the hassle of going back to school. "

Timothy gaped at him, horrified and intrigued, but mostly horrified. "How - that - that's..." His eyes darted to the device sitting in his trembling palm. "What do I - I just jam this friggin’ thing into my skull?"

"Into the port, yes."

"And I'll just... _know_ everything?"

"More or less. It's difficult to explain."

Timothy stared at him for a long moment, then glanced back at the device. "Wish I'd had this kinda shit back in school," he muttered. He would've majored in computer tech or robotics or something actually guaranteed to get him a well-paying job after college and minored in English, if only to spare him some sanity.

Mr. Blake chuckled quietly. "Yes, you and I both. Give it a try. I assure you it's perfectly safe. It _is_ a Hyperion-manufactured device."

Sure, like _that_ meant anything. Timothy swallowed hard and tentatively brought the device up towards his temple. When it was maybe half a foot from it, a small electric current suddenly shot out and attached itself to the port on the side of his head, making him yelp and almost drop the device. The current broke with a small zap to his system that left him wheezing and the hair on his arms standing on end.

"That's just to help guide you to the port," Mr. Blake assured him. "Perfectly normal."

The device was vibrating a little in Timothy's hand as he hesitantly brought it back up to his head. The small shock current sparked back to life, and this time Timothy allowed his hand to be guided towards the port, like a magnet drawn to metal.

The thin end of the device slid into the port with ease. Timothy's jaw dropped for a multitude of reasons, the first being that he could _feel_ the goddamned thing sliding into his brain, the second being that he was suddenly being bombarded by a tsunami of strange information that made no sense, but then it _did_ make sense, and it was all so confusing that he had to slam his eyes shut against the surge of data and wait for the storm to pass.

As abruptly as it began, it stopped, leaving him hunched over and dry heaving into his own lap. A string of drool dangled before his eyes, but he could hardly focus on it, too dizzy and disoriented. Suddenly he knew what capital expenditure was and what market segmentation entailed and a slew of other business-related mumbo jumbo. It scared the shit out of him.

"How do you feel?" Mr. Blake asked after letting him catch his breath.

It took a moment for Timothy's mouth to work again. "I wanna go home," he whimpered.

"You are home," Mr. Blake told him. There was a strange look in his narrow eyes, but Timothy was hesitant to call it pity. "That was only a small portion of the information Handsome Jack expects you to learn over the next few weeks while he's away on Pandora."

Timothy's head shot up at the revelation that he was going to be relatively torture-free for that long.

"You'll need to report to me daily for the next couple of days," Mr. Blake continued, moving to stand behind the desk again. With Pandora looming brightly behind him through the large viewing window, he looked particularly menacing. "I have you booked you for six-hour sessions with the professors, but since I've saved us all a lot of time and money by making use of your ECHO port, you're free to do as you please for the remainder of those six hours."

That took Timothy by surprise as well. This man was strange. Timothy still wasn't sure whether or not he could trust him.

"You are free to go until tomorrow," Blake concluded. "Remember, you are the face of Handsome Jack, who is the face of Hyperion. Don't disappoint him or the company."

Timothy snorted as he got to his feet. How could he ever forget?

He made for the stairs, but abruptly his body tilted without his permission, and the next thing he knew was that he was lying at the foot of the small staircase in a crumpled, bruised heap. Disoriented did not even begin to describe how he felt right then.

Mr. Blake's shined shoes clacked into his line of vision. "Well, that didn't last long," the older man commented quietly. "Did you break anything vital?"

Timothy let out a weird noise that was supposed to be words, but his tongue felt super heavy in his mouth and made talking hard. What was happening to him? Was he drunker than he thought?

"Do I need to call for a medic?" Mr. Blake asked him. His one foot was tapping against the pristine floor. "Or is this something you can sleep off? An answer some time this year would be grand."

The guy's voice was laced with annoyance, but only to cover up the nervousness that was making his words shake. Weird that Timothy could detect that but not feel his limbs or make his stupid mouth work. He must be dying.

Eventually Mr. Blake got down on one knee and, with a bit of difficulty, turned Timothy onto his back. The movement made Timothy's head swim and his stomach roll in protest.

"Nothing looks broken," the man was saying quietly. "I can't account for internal injuries, however." He paused and squinted down at Timothy. "I was reviewing your medical file when you arrived earlier. It mentioned that you were supposed to be taking numerous post-op medications."

Timothy's mouth moved. It took a moment of making nonsensical noise before real words began to form. "Five bottles," he slurred in affirmation. The lights were swimming above him. Mr. Blake looked like the devil again as he narrowed his eyes.

"Do any of them by chance recommend not mixing them with alcohol?"

"Yuh."

Mr. Blake heaved another sigh. "I'm going to summon someone to escort you to the hospital wing," he said, rising to his feet with a little bit of difficulty. "You might need to have your stomach pumped - "

Timothy lashed out and snagged the man by a skinny ankle, almost yanking him off his feet. "No more hospitals," he growled, managing to glare up at him.

He couldn't see Mr. Blake's face against the bright lighting, but he somehow knew that the man was frowning disdainfully down at him, either from the fact that he was daring to touch him or that he was refusing medical attention. Probably the former.

Timothy's memory grew foggy then; he could hear himself arguing with the vice president, but couldn't decipher the actual words. Time must have passed, because the next thing he knew was that he was lying in his own bed, warm and comfortable and definitely sobering up, if his cottony mouth was any indication.

"This is quite an array of medication you've got."

Timothy groaned quietly and forced his eyes open to glower at Mr. Blake, who was standing by the bedside table rifling through the numerous bottles stationed there. He picked one up and wrinkled his nose as he read the label.

"None of these can be taken with alcohol," he said, frowning deeply. "What were you thinking?"

Timothy was thinking that it would be easier to live out the rest of his life on this stupid satellite piss-drunk, but he didn't say that. He couldn't trust this man, just as he couldn't trust anyone else who worked for Hyperion. He was alone.

"Di'you take me to th'hospital?" he slurred instead of answering the man's question.

"No. You were putting up such a fuss about it that I had them bring you back here, per your request. The only reason why you're even coherent right now is because you vomited all over yourself and the floor on the way back here, which is the cause for your current state of undress. I'd apologize for the invasion of privacy, but you also managed to vomit on my shoes, so I'm a little beyond the realm of caring at the moment."

Timothy shifted, feeling the blankets dragging across his bare skin. He still had his boxers on, though, for which he was grateful.

"My bad," he muttered, drawing the blankets up to his chin.

"It certainly is." Mr. Blake set the medication back on the table and turned to face him, still frowning. "You need to stop drinking so long as you're on these pills."

Timothy rolled his eyes. A few of the prescriptions weren't scheduled to be re-filled, but the anti-depressants and the pain pills were probably going to stick with him for the rest of his life. There was no way he'd be able to go without alcohol for long in this hellhole, especially if sleep continued to elude him. Blake would just have to deal with a half-drunk drug addict stumbling around Helios.

"If I need to put a ban on alcohol on this side of the space station, I will," Blake threatened, as if he'd somehow heard his thoughts.

Despite his irritation, Timothy couldn't help but crack a slightly-manic grin and chuckle. "You sound like my old man," he said. He came home for spring break drunk once and his father almost strangled him. How dare his twenty-one year old son get shitfaced after nearly failing his algebra exam.

"I - that's...very interesting," Blake said awkwardly, now sounding flustered.

Timothy hummed, licking his lips, only to make a face and frown at the ceiling when he tasted vomit. Slowly he sat up, mindful of how dizzy he was, and unclipped his mask. Sure enough, there was a tiny bit of vomit still caked on the inside, right around the mouth hole.

"Gross," he grunted. "Can you hand me a tissue?"

When Blake made no move to do as he requested, Timothy looked up at him. The older man was staring right back at him through wide eyes; it actually took Timothy a second to realize what his issue was.

He sneered and snagged a tissue himself. "Now you know what's under the mask." He scrubbed the dried vomit out of the mask and was halfway through clipping the damn thing back on when he remembered Jack's words, the ones he had hissed in his ear after scorching his face with that brand:

_No one gets to see this pretty scarred face but me, princess._

Timothy shuddered and finished clipping the mask on. "I'm taking the rest of the day off," he muttered, keeping his eyes on his lap. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Blake."

The man hesitated, but nodded and left Timothy to his own morbid thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	9. Chapter 9

The next several days involved Timothy getting what he'd come to call "knowledge shots" in his noggin. He doubted he'd ever get used to the sensation of sliding something into his brain and then suddenly being able to have a conversation with Mr. Blake about how fixed costs and variable costs are used in the production and marketing of products and services. He was able to talk about shit like that as easily as he could as if he were discussing the weather - something which bothered him as well as astonished him. He really was like a computer now; just ask for information and he'd spit it out for you.

He stayed away from the alcohol. Not having Jack around made him less inclined to knock back a bottle or two, and by the third day he was willing to go as far as to admit that he wasn't quite as on edge as he usually felt. That wasn't to say he wasn't still hideously depressed, but it was certainly an improvement compared to how he'd been feeling lately.

It helped that Mr. Blake seemed to be showing him some form of camaraderie that he didn't show with the majority of people working near their little nook of Helios. He was curt and professional with most of them and wore his typical stoic expression while in their presence. He didn't linger to chat them up; he got whatever information he needed and then left. With Timothy, he was more patient, more willing to actually hold a conversation, even if ninety percent of the time it was about work.

Timothy knew it was probably pity that kept the old geezer from being a total jackass to him. He had seen what was under the mask, seen what Jack had done to him and probably felt bad about it. A part of Timothy was super irritated by it - he was a grown-ass man, a goddamned ex-vault hunter who didn't need someone to coddle him - but the other half was just grateful to have someone around that didn't make him nervous or cringe in fear.

In his downtime, he worked on rebuilding his novel. Every last bit of his old life had been erased, including all the notes and first and second drafts of the novel he’d been working on since high school. It was still a tender subject to think about, but he kept assuring himself that it was probably a good thing to have to start over completely. His fourteen-year-old self was much different than the person he was now.

Occasionally Mr. Blake would force him to take strolls around Helios to observe its construction with feigned interest. He would prefer to explore the space station by himself, but he had to keep up Jack's appearance, and that meant having at least one Loader Bot in tow at all times.

More and more people were coming into the space station every day, either as tourists just looking to get a glimpse of Hyperion's new leader or as legitimate corporate drones. Most of the office buildings and apartment complexes and condos had been completed recently, allowing people to get to work. It was only a matter of time before the college campus was completed, and that meant having to deal with shrieking college fanboys and fangirls on top of the usual array of code monkeys.

Timothy didn't mind the attention when it was focused on him. Most people were too afraid to get near him, so all he really had to do was flash a fake, cocky smile or wave and that would be enough for them. Ten years ago he would have loved being the center of attention like this, but he knew the novelty of it was bound to wane. A small part of him hoped Jack would be back before then. Most of Timothy hoped the guy would bite the dust down on that planet.

No such luck, however. A week and a half later, Jack came back to Helios.

Timothy hadn't been expecting to see the CEO when he walked into his office for another knowledge shot. He froze halfway up the steps to the desk and contemplated trying to make a quick escape, but Blake, damn him, sensed his presence and turned away from Jack to nod at him in greeting.

When Jack realized that he no longer had the older man's attention, he whirled around to face the intruder, eyes wild and mouth twisted up in a snarl. It was only after he realized it was just Timothy that the vile, frightening expression on his plastic face twisted into a shark-like smile.

"Ah, my precious body double," Jack all but sneered, descending the steps to wrap his arms around Timothy in a bone-crunching hug. "It's been so long, buddy!"

Timothy remained tense even after Jack withdrew. "W-welcome back, sir," he squeaked, then hurried to clear his throat. "You, uh...look...different?"

There was definitely something off about the man, and it wasn't just his physical appearance. He gave off an entirely different air now, and it made Timothy very, very nervous. This wasn't the code monkey who had hired him months ago. This wasn’t even the psychotic dude that shoved a red-hot brand onto his face because he didn’t like how Timothy looked. This was the new face of Hyperion, the CEO with more power and money than anyone else on this side of the galaxy.

"I feel great, kiddo! I was just tellin' ol' Jimmy here about my fantastic time down on that shithole Pandora." Jack's smile only grew wider. "Me and Nisha went on a bandit-killing spree. Totally fucked up this town called Lynchwood, slaughtered everyone that fought back. Nisha runs that joint now. I made her sheriff! Ha, not bad for a first legit date, eh? And what's even better: we found a _huge_ vein of Eridium right inside the town." His sharp eyes slid over to Blake. "Add Lynchwood to the list, Jimmy."

"Of course, sir."

"Eridium?" Timothy echoed as the other man ushered him up the steps so that he could sit down in his usual chair. He lowered himself into it, but was still too tense to truly relax just yet. Jack was in a good mood, at least, so there was less chance of him snapping.

"Yeah, it's this mineral that I dug up like a year ago," Jack explained. "The planet's choc' full of it. Still doin' research on it, but it’s already making me _rich_." He whirled on Mr. Blake. "Speaking of being rich! Blake! Tell me you've got some good news for me on the mining front, buddy!"

Mr. Blake nodded stiffly. "Six of the ten mining operations have already been funded and are getting underway as we speak, sir. The foremen have assured me that we will start getting shipments of Eridium within the week. We've yet to hear back from the other four contributors - "

"Why not?" Jack asked, all mirth gone from him.

"I'm afraid these things take time, sir." Timothy mentally gave Blake credit for sounding firm even with Jack glowering at him. "The amount of money needed to fund a mining expedition - especially of the magnitude and demand that you've requested - is quite extensive. The board was only willing to donate so much. I expect more will be willing to fund these endeavors once we start getting the shipments of the mineral in and they can see for themselves how foolish they've been."

Jack huffed like a spoiled brat, but waved Blake on to continue.

"Opportunity's blueprints have been approved."

"Yee-haw!" the CEO exclaimed, slapping his knee as his mood made a complete turnaround. "Location and all?"

"Yes, sir. We're in the process of hiring engineers to start the building process. Supplies have already been deposited at the construction zone."

Jack snorted as he plopped down into the chair behind his desk and kicked his feet up. "Hiring is gonna take too long," he said. "Just round up all the able-bodied engineers we have here and shoot them down to Pandora. And yeah, they're gonna complain I'm sure, but we need to get this city up and running ASAP. Threaten their families or something and that should get 'em moving. Works every time."

Mr. Blake didn't so much as blink. "I agree with you, sir," he said. "But without engineers on Helios, the space station won't be completed on time. We'll run the risk of being set back in everything until more engineers are shipped in. That could take months, depending on the board's generosity."

That made the CEO cease moving. Up until then, Timothy had been only half listening to their conversation. Then Jack's severe gaze was locking with his, and the blood in Timothy's veins turned to ice.

A thin, angry chuckle escaped Jack's twisted mouth. "Why isn't the space station done yet?" he asked. It was a question that only Blake could answer, yet Jack was busy drilling holes through Timothy's face with his eyes. "We - we've got college kids lining' up at our doors, and you're telling me that they won't be able to start classes in the fall 'cos the goddamn college hasn't even been built yet? What's the dealio, kid? Why haven't you stepped it up around here, huh? All those lessons I've been forkin' out money for - all for nothin', huh?"

Timothy fumbled for an excuse. How was he supposed to know that he had legitimate duties to tend to when no one told him?

"It's to be expected, sir," Mr. Blake said suddenly, sounding disappointed. "Such an esteemed, coveted position can only be run by the best. While your body double is quite convincing, he still has a lot to learn when it comes to embodying you, sir. And with all due respect, he hasn't finished his lessons yet."

It took Jack a second to snap out of whatever stupor he'd fallen into and turn to face them again. "Oh?" he asked, cocking a brow as he folded his arms across his chest.

"As I was saying before your body double interrupted," Mr. Blake said, "I dismissed the teachers you hired and instead compiled several lessons and basic business information onto ECHO port drives. The information took. It was a bit forward of me, I admit, but I assure you the results were worth it, sir."

Jack's eyebrow remained firmly arched on his brow. "So you're saying I can ask this dweeb about corporate shit like synergy and liquid assets and he’d be able to tell me all about ‘em?”

"Yes, sir." Blake shot Timothy a look out of the corner of his eye. "Test him, if you wish, though I must remind you that his lessons aren't complete. There's one more drive - "

"Hand it over," Jack ordered, holding out his hand. It appeared there a second later. Jack took a moment to investigate the slender device before he approached Timothy, who instinctively recoiled away from him. "Just jam it in there, right?" Jack asked as he unclipped the corner of Timothy's mask enough to expose the port.

"Yes, but - sir!"

Timothy jerked as the drive was shoved into the port so hard that his head was sent snapping sideways. His entire body tingled, but not just with the rush of information. A short, pained scream flew from his lips as electricity snapped inside his head and all along the tech plugged into his nerves. It was only for a second, but it still fried him pretty damn good.

Jack pulled back, cackling. "Man, that was awesome! Does that happen every time?"

Mr. Blake was frowning at Jack, his disgust barely masked. "No, sir. It's a delicate procedure," he said flatly. "One that the patient usually performs at his own pace."

"Ah, he's fine!" Jack declared, giving Timothy a slap on the shoulder. Timothy barely felt it, still trying to force his brain back online. "Pretty ingenious of you, Blake," Jack continued, flashing the man an appreciative look. "I was damn smart to make you vice-prez."

Mr. Blake nodded hesitantly, not wanting to agree or disagree with the man. "I live to serve you and Hyperion, sir," he reminded him.

"Of course you do." Jack lowered himself back into his chair and brought his hand to his face again, fingers against the arch of his brand beneath the mask. He was quiet for half a minute, gaze distant, before he began speaking again in a low voice. "Finish the college. Cut their break times down to five minutes a day if that's what it takes to get their asses moving. It needs to be done within the month so that they can get started on Opportunity."

"Yes, sir."

"Class dismissed."

Timothy struggled to his feet and followed Mr. Blake out of the room. He stumbled several times, but managed to make it down the steps and out into the hallway without face-planting.

"Any permanent damage?" Mr. Blake asked him the second the door slid shut behind them.

Timothy touched the port on the side of his head. He felt strange and his head hurt, but everything seemed all right. "I don't think so," he said quietly.

"Look at me."

Timothy turned and stared at the older man. Blake stared right back; it took Timothy a second to realize that he was judging the size of his pupils. He must not have liked what he saw because a deep frown settled on his face.

"You should go to the hospital."

"I'm sick of that place," Timothy grunted.

"You might have had a stroke. Go to the hospital, for the love of all that's good and decent."

There wasn't much of that on this side of the galaxy, Timothy wanted to say, but his tongue felt too heavy to lift. "Just wanna sleep," he managed to spit out.

"Fine. Then go sleep," Blake finally snapped. Apparently the man did have a limit - or maybe Jack's presence on Helios again was grinding him down. Timothy could certainly relate.

The vice president left him standing in the hallway as he made a beeline for his own significantly smaller office a few doors down. Timothy watched him until he vanished, then started off in search of some much-coveted rest.

He didn't head for his apartment, though. He knew that if he went there, someone was bound to bug him, so he went to one of the few other places he felt safe at: behind Joanne's desk.

The secretary took one look at his staggering, pale form and wordlessly let him into her kiosk, allowing him to curl up on the floor off to the side of her chair, well out of the way of everything but the security camera that had seen him go in. He was half asleep when Joanne kicked her sweater at him, which he gratefully used as a pillow.

He slept for maybe an hour or so until a headache woke him up. The port in the side of his head was aching, but it wasn't anything some good ol' fashioned narcotics couldn't take care of. With a whispered thanks to Joanne, he headed back towards his room on noticeably more stable feet.

His headache was actually starting to let up a little by the time he made it to his apartment, but the pain came rushing back to him the second the door swung open. Jack was seated by the fireplace with Timothy's ECHO device - the one he used to write down everything pertaining to his story.

"Pretty interesting stuff you got here, kid," the CEO said as he continued to scroll through the dozens of files. "You writing this in your spare time or what?"

Timothy felt ready to pass out from a multitude of reasons, the foremost being that Jack had his hands on the only thing that mattered to him on this goddamned floating prison cell - the only thing that kept him moderately sane. "Y-yessir," he whispered. "That's several months of work."

"Huh. Could've sworn I hired you as my body double and not an author."

"You did, sir."

He flicked the ECHO off. "And what do body doubles do?"

"Th-they," Timothy hesitated, "pretend to be someone?"

Jack smiled sweetly and tsked at him. "I suppose some body doubles pretend. But you're special, kid. I hired you to _be_ me in every single way. I paid the best plastic surgeon in the galaxy a buttload of money to bestow you with my face and body - and then I took the time out of my busy schedule to murder him and his team of surgeons so that no one would ever know what happened to that loser Timmy-Whatever."

Timothy was sweating so hard he could feel it trickling down his spine. Though Jack's words were calm, Timothy could tell there was one hell of a storm brewing behind the small smile on his plastic face. The presence of two Hyperion guards sauntering up behind him, blocking his only escape out of the apartment, only helped solidify that assumption.

"And yes, I know they had to cut your training short 'cos of the whole Lost Legion bullshit," Jack continued through a sigh as he rose to his feet and slowly began to approach Timothy, like a tiger approaching its prey, "and yes, you're gonna be getting a Handsome Jack AI plugged into your noggin eventually, but that doesn't mean you can slack off until then. You've been hanging out with me for weeks now, kiddo! You should _know_ that Handsome Jack doesn't write. I barely read these days."

Timothy nodded frantically, eyes on the ECHO device still hanging limply in Jack's grasp. "Y-yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir," he babbled. "Just - please, sir, I - "

"You know what I do around here?" Jack asked, running Timothy's words right over with his own. His whole attitude was different now - it was darker, more intense. The storm was here, and Timothy was right in its path. "I run this goddamned company." He hooked Timothy by the chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "And I punish those that don't behave."

That being said, he turned and tossed the ECHO into the fire.

" _No!_ " Timothy exclaimed, attempting to lunge forward in a desperate attempt to save the ECHO before it completely burned. The guards seized him by his arms before he could get more than a step forward, holding him tight even as he struggled.

Jack made a tsking noise. "Don't be such a silly face, kiddo! Can't have you burning my hands over something as dumb as an ECHO device, can we?"

Timothy said nothing, just sagged in the guards' grip and stared in dismay at the crackling fire. The ECHO gave a terrible popping noise as part of it exploded open from the heat, rendering the device worthless, it's data surely irretrievable. All of his work - his characters, his world building notes, his first draft - gone, just like that.

"Oh, you're upset," Jack said quietly, frowning. "I see. Well, I know just the thing to cheer you up. Know why? 'Cos it's what cheers _me_ up whenever I'm down. Follow me."

Jack left the room, and Timothy would have remained staring at the now smoldering remains of his work if the guards hadn't begun dragging him after their boss.

Timothy was far too upset to take note on where Jack was leading him, though he did glance up every now and then to find himself in vaguely familiar territory. He recognized the strange growths hanging from the ceilings in R&D, but they didn't stay in that sector for long. They took another elevator. Despite his rage, Timothy couldn't help but begin to wonder just where the hell this asshole was taking him.

"Nearly there!" Jack told him cheerfully after another elevator ride up. "You're gonna have a blast with this, Jack. Trust me."

He did once.

They finally reached their destination: one of the many research labs that were housed within R&D. All of Timothy’s anger and frustration was sucked out of him instantly at the sight of three men and a woman strapped down to tables in the center of the bright, sterile room. They were all hooked up to their own cluster of IVs and dotted with electrodes, alive but clearly heavily drugged. Timothy noted the bright purple streaks on their hands and legs and their faces and realized that these weren't just ordinary Dahl prisoners of war - they were Lost Legion soldiers infected by Eridium. Somehow Jack had managed to capture a handful of these powerful creatures.

"What the hell is this?" he breathed, beyond horrified. He knew about the shooting galleries - the guards and soldiers talked about them well enough on their breaks - and he'd heard whispers of unethical experiments taking place in R&D. He had been content to listen to those rumors and think of them as nothing more. Now the truth was right in front of him and it frightened him beyond words.

"This," Jack began with a wide, extravagant sweep of his arm, "is where I go to relax these days. Come on, come closer. They can't hurt you."

Timothy's feet felt like they were glued to the floor, but he still managed to drag himself over to the closest table where one of the men was strapped down. His eyes were half-lidded into glowing purple slits, his expression tight, like he was having a bad dream. The collar around his throat probably had something to do with it, Timothy noted, swallowing hard. The thing was glowing the same shade of purple as the man it was attached to.

"Remember that one soldier you refused to kill?" Jack asked quietly, nearly making Timothy jump. The CEO was standing right behind him now, so close that Timothy could feel his breath on the back of his neck. "I believe your exact words were 'I'm not you, Jack' when I gave you the order. And hey, I understand!" he exclaimed, clapping Timothy on the shoulder. "You were stressed out and tired at the time, so I forgave you. And it all worked out in the end, as you can see."

Jack gestured to the half-conscious man strapped to the table and walked around to the other side of it. "They're fascinating things, really," he said, plucking at one of the IVs sticking out of the man's arm. "Powerful, too. The amount of drugs needed to keep them docile and weak is more than enough to kill a normal man. The collar helps keep their powers in check just in case - "

"Why did you bring me here?" Timothy gritted out.

Jack looked up and pursed his lips, a little perturbed at being interrupted in the middle of his creepy speal. "I was getting to it," he said stiffly, then pulled the IV out of the man's arm.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Timothy blurted, taking several alarmed steps backwards.

He swallowed hard as the man on the table began to wake. Despite having other IVs in his arm, his eyelids began to flutter, and a second later he began to make awful whimpering noises as he tugged feebly on the restraints around his arms and legs.

Wordlessly Jack moved past him over to the wall where several consoles were lined up. One of the consoles was made up entirely of levers - four of them, all set into the upright position. Jack typed a few things into one console, powering something in the room up, then took one of the levers in his hand. He flashed Timothy a nasty grin, then brought the lever all the way down.

The man on the table arched his back as best as he could and began to howl as electricity flowed through the wires attached to the nodes on his chest and limbs. The entire table creaked as he thrashed and screamed, but the straps held him tight, leaving him helpless against the flow of pain. The collar around his neck lit up as the soldier tried to use his powers, dampening them almost to the point of canceling them out completely.

Timothy's chest was heaving almost as much as the soldier's as Jack finally cut the electric current. "Wh-what's the point of doing that?" he half whimpered. "Is it for science? Does it - does it affect their powers or something?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno, but it makes me feel great," he said, grinning triumphantly. "Oh, don't look at me like that! They deserve this kind of torture for what they did to Helios - what they did to you and Athena and the others on Elpis. Here, give it a try."

Jack snagged him by his sleeve and attempted to tug him over to the console, but Timothy jerked away from him and stumbled backwards into the wall. "No!" he blurted, angry and terrified all the same. "Why would I want to do that to someone? They're already captured and defenseless!"

Jack rolled his eyes at his defiance. "See, this is the kind of stuff you gotta work on if you don't want me to shoot you out an airlock," he said through a long-suffering sigh. "Handsome Jack likes to punish people that deserve to be punished. What's your name?"

"H-Handsome Jack," Timothy whispered.

"Say it."

"M-my name is Handsome Jack."

"Good." Jack was smirking like the cat that got the canary. "And what does Handsome Jack like to do?"

The words got stuck in Timothy's throat for too long, causing the smirk to fade from Jack's face. "P-punish people," Timothy forced out, panicking. "Punish people who deserve it."

Jack hummed. "Do you know how many innocent people the Lost Legion killed on Helios alone? We're _still_ finding corpses. These bastards deserve far worse than a jolt every now and then."

Timothy glanced over at the soldier, who was still writhing in his bonds and whimpering quietly to himself. He wasn't sure if this guy had personally shed any blood on Helios. Hell, for all he knew, this guy was a new recruit that had gotten swept up in all this madness and had never actually fired a gun in his life. Why did Jack get to decide who gets punished? Who gave him the right to decide this kind of shit?

No one gave it to him, Timothy knew. He seized that power when he murdered his way to the top of the Hyperion corporate food chain. And Timothy had a hand in helping him get there.

Jack stepped aside and gestured to the levers, a sneer curling the corner of his fake lips. Wordlessly Timothy snagged the one closest lever him and pulled it down, then turned to watch the female soldier's eyes fly open as the rest of her convulsed and screeched in agony. Jack cackled in amusement, though Timothy barely heard him over the roaring of the electric current and the woman's agonized screams and his own heart hammering wildly in his ears.

He pushed the lever back up after about ten seconds, leaving the woman in a similar state to her male companion. Her whimpers were quieter, as if she was trying to hold them in in a desperate attempt to save face.

Timothy pulled the next lever. Another soldier screamed, and Jack's smile grew wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	10. Chapter 10

That night, Timothy returned to the room.

He never really doubted that he would. He was beyond angry with Jack - for burning his book, for torturing more people under the pretense that they deserved it, for fucking turning him into a life-sized replica of himself and attempting to force him to act just like him in all ways, just to name a few reasons - and yeah, it might get him killed, but his life was basically over anyway. At this point, spitting in Jack's face and getting shot was all he had to look forward to.

With Jack's typical sneer on his face, he swaggered down the halls of R&D past guards and scientists, only opening his mouth only to snap something sarcastic and demeaning if the need arose. He was able to reach the torture chamber with literally no resistance; most of the common folk averted their eyes, which Timothy appreciated given the circumstances but also found extremely disturbing. There were two guards stationed by the doorway to the room, but they just nodded at him as he strutted past them.

After all of that, Timothy nearly blew his cover when he caught sight of a handful of scientists buzzing around the room. A few were clustered around the soldiers frantically scribbling things down into ECHO logs, and others were standing by the consoles quietly conversing with one another. They were clearly in the middle of experimenting - something that Timothy should have been expecting, in all honesty. Jack was a sadistic piece of shit, but he didn't like letting things go to waste if he could get something else out of it.

"How goes it?" Timothy asked, adding just the right amount of demanding sleaze to his tone to indicate that he was expecting good news.

Work instantly ceased as tension filled the room faster than Timothy was prepared for. He kept his sneer in place and hoped his eyes didn't give away his nervousness.

"Everything is proceeding normally, sir," one of the scientists spoke up in a quivering voice. "We'll have the data for you by tomorrow morning."

Timothy didn't know what kind of data she was talking about, nor did he really care. It wouldn't matter come morning if everything went well tonight. "Good," he said, "now get out. Go on break or somethin'. I need some, ah, alone time with these suckers for a few minutes."

The scientists filed out, clearly used to receiving such orders. Timothy watched the door slide shut behind them, but didn't react once it was shut. He was keenly aware of the video surveillance cameras in the corners of the lab. The first thing he had to do was shut them off.

It was absurdly simple to type a command into the main console and power them down. The Hyperion Voice Lady warned him cheerfully that shutting the cameras down was not a wise move, but Timothy ignored her and hoped that security hadn’t been alerted.

He peered down at the closest soldier, the one he had spared back on Elpis. The man didn't look any better than he had this afternoon - still terribly pale save for the streaks of purple around his eyes and limbs, and he was back in his drug-induced coma if the four IV lines sticking out of him were any indication.

Timothy yanked two of the four IVs out and tore off the electrical nodes that dotted the man's bare chest. He looked at the collar around his neck and cursed when he found no visible way to remove it - not without some serious cutting tools, at least.

Maybe the guy would be able to tear it off if he got a hand free. Timothy moved to fumble with the strap around the man's right wrist. All the straps were all held by electronic locks that either required a code or a verbal password to open, he realized, cursing again.

"Open," he hissed at it. " _Please_ open? Unlock. Open sesame. God _dammit_."

The hand being restrained abruptly folded into a fist. Sucking in a breath, Timothy brought his eyes up to meet the soldier's unwavering gaze, expecting pain to befall on him almost instantly. Instead, Timothy watched that gaze slide away from him and over to a nearby cart where a number of tools sat.

"I can take a hint," he mumbled, stumbling over to it. He snagged what looked like a smaller version of a crowbar, hoping that blunt would be more functional than sharp.

Unfortunately his shaking hands betrayed him, sending half of the other tools clattering noisily onto the cold floor as he accidentally knocked the tray askew. Timothy froze, hoping nobody would think twice about hearing strange noises coming from this room, but apparently his luck was beginning to run out.

"Everything all right in there, boss?" one of the guards called from outside.

"Fine!" Timothy squealed in a very not-Jack voice as he stumbled back over to the soldier. "Fine, fine, don't come in, I'm, ah, experimenting! Very dangerous experiments!"

"Do you, uh, need help?"

"No! Come in here and I'll shoot you out the nearest airlock!"

That shut the guard up for the moment. Timothy jammed the crowbar thing into the hinge of the wrist strap and yanked hard on it, going as far as to brace his feet against the table and use his entire body weight to bust the fucking thing open. The metal creaked and groaned and even bent a little bit, but Hyperion tech was no joke; it held, leaving Timothy falling on his ass in the middle of the room, the crowbar-thing useless in his hands.

"Fuck," he gasped, scrambling to his feet. He hadn't thought this through at all, he realized. Was there a button he could press on one of the consoles? A key lying around? _Anything?_

Growing desperate, he tried another one of the tools, this one sporting a thinner, sharper edge. He jammed it into the actual lock, thinking he could maybe pick the thing. He began to jimmy the tool around aimlessly, growing more and more panicked, until suddenly the soldier clenched his fist again, bringing Timothy's attention back to him.

The soldier's glowing eyes rolled to glare at his other arm where the other two IVs were still pumping drugs into him. Timothy reached over him to remove those as well, not really thinking much of it, and then went back to frantically jabbing the lock with the tool.

"When you get out," Timothy rasped, "you gotta grab your friends and go. I don't care where - just not on Helios."

The soldier said nothing, just continued to stare through his soul with those eyes of his.

Over the blood roaring in his ears, Timothy could distantly hear a ruckus taking place outside. He was out of time, he realized, sucking in a wet sob as he hurled the thin tool aside. He couldn't even get one of these people free. Now they were all going to suffer.

But he couldn't give up yet. He dashed over to the bookshelf that was overflowing with textbooks and ECHO logs and pushed it over, spilling its contents all across the floor. The noise outside grew louder, but Timothy ignored it in favor of shoving the empty bookshelf in front of the door. It wouldn't hold anyone back for long, but the ten seconds it would take someone to shove it aside and stumble through the mess on the floor might be the ten seconds he needed to finish sawing through one of the bonds on the Lost Legion soldier.

By now said soldier was wide awake and yanking on his restraints in a desperate attempt to speed the process up. Snatching up a bone saw, Timothy gritted his teeth and slashed as fast as he could get his arm to move, but it still wasn’t enough.

"Cut it off."

Timothy almost dropped the tool. "What?" he blurted.

The soldier's eyes darted down to his limb. "Cut it off."

"Y-you're serious? I can't just - "

The door hissed open. "Oho!" came Jack's familiar chuckling from behind the bookcase. "Aw, my body double thinks he can outsmart us. How cute. Wilhelm, you wanna do the honors?"

The bookcase exploded just as Timothy wrapped his hand around the hilt of the biggest, sharpest instrument he could find on the tray. Pieces of shrapnel flew past his head, but he barely noticed, too consumed with the primal urge to finish what he started.

He whirled around and bolted back towards the soldier, but a bullet bouncing off the floor two feet in front of him made him freeze mid-step. Jack stood over the smoldering remains of the bookshelf with Wilhelm at his side and a handful of armed guards hovering in the doorway.

Jack tsked at the mess and put his hands on his hips - the very epitome of a disappointed, angry parent. "Look at this place! Kiddo, if I wasn't already going to shoot you out the airlock for this disrespect, I'd ground you and have you clean this up."

Timothy swallowed hard and glanced frantically between Jack and the soldier strapped to the table, too panicked to really think of the pros and cons of acting one way or another. He wound up lunging for the soldier and let out a frightened cry as Wilhelm fired at him again - another warning shot, this one ricocheting off the ground and nearly lodging itself in his calf. Timothy stumbled and collapsed against the table, half draped over the soldier.

Jack frowned at him. "What was your big plan, kiddo? Swoop in here, free these mutated dweebs, and save the day? Or were you just going to put them out of their misery?" he asked, nodding at the knife still clutched in Timothy's shaking hand. "C'mon, numb-nuts, you really think I haven't already stabbed them a few times just for kicks? Joke's on you - they just heal from stab wounds, even with those collars on."

Timothy lifted his eyebrows at his boss. "Oh," he said. With all his strength, he slammed the knife down onto the soldier's wrist, severing the limb.

He didn't see what happened afterwards, as a terrible burning sensation in his ribs seized him almost immediately and left him crumpling to the floor next to the table. Belatedly he realized he'd been shot, and if the blood bubbling in the back of his throat was any indication, the bullet had pierced one of his lungs.

The floor beneath him rippled, something he only noticed after it had happened. It was strange; everything seemed to be unfolding in slow motion, yet he still couldn't focus on any of it fast enough to see what was happening. He could hear people shouting and unloading their guns, but eventually that faded, until the only thing he could hear was his slowing heartbeat in his ears along with a dull roaring noise.

Then it all got very quiet.

For a moment, Timothy wondered if this was death. The research room-slash-torture chamber was blurring out around him, and time seemed to have slowed completely. Jack was still by the door, his head turned and mouth open to bark orders at the guards behind him, but none of them were moving, their voices muted. One of the lights above him had been paused in the middle of swaying, and there were a few tools and other bits of shrapnel hovering in mid-air, as if suspended by invisible string.

Timothy glanced down at himself, saw the blood turning his yellow shirt a dark red, saw his hands twitching in a feeble attempt to cover the wound. Confused, he brought his hand up and marveled at how he appeared to be moving at a normal speed while everything else appeared stalled.

Yup, definitely dying, he concluded, coughing up a blob of blood.

The edges of his vision were turning black, but he was still able to see the soldiers approach him, surrounding him on all sides. No longer bound and collared, they were aglow from head to foot in bright, swirling purple that distorted their features to the point where only their glowing white eyes were visible.

Angels, Timothy's stupid, dying mind suggested. They looked like the angels his grandmother used to describe in her stories.

"Go," he choked out in a voice hardly more than a whisper. A terrible wheezing noise wracked him as he struggled to inhale. Great, his lung was collapsing. He always had a hunch he'd die a slow, painful death.

None of the soldiers moved away. Panic bubbled in his chest along with blood and air in places it shouldn't be.

"Go, go," he urged. "B'fore Jack - "

"He cannot touch us," one of the soldiers boomed, making him flinch and cry out weakly, both from fright and the pain of jostling his battered body too hard.

As quick as that fear appeared, it was gone, pulled away from him by gentle hands. With the same degree of slowness as before, the soldiers knelt down in unison around him. Someone took his head into their lap, and suddenly he could breathe, if only for a moment before blood gurgled out from between his lips again. When he rolled his eyes skyward, he found the ethereal form of the female soldier staring unblinkingly down at him, beautiful and terrifying all the same.

Someone caressed his jaw, slowly drawing his gaze away from the woman. He found the soldier he had freed kneeling closest to his side. It was strange; Timothy couldn't see any of his features beyond his wide, glowing eyes and the outline of his shorn head, but he still knew it was him.

"This is twice now you've spared me," the soldier said without moving his mouth. His voice was softer, like a summer breeze drifting across Timothy's cold, sweaty skin. "This time, I'll return the favor."

Timothy tried to tell him that he didn't have to, but the soldier was already leaning down to place his hands - both of them; had he regrown the one after Timothy cut it off? - over the bleeding wound in his chest. For a split second, Timothy was wracked with utter agony, but then he was gasping in fresh air and tingling with pleasure from head to toe. As the soldier pulled away, Timothy went limp, confused but, briefly, very content and at ease.

Reality quickly encroached on his consciousness again just in time for him to witness the soldiers slowly rising to their feet together and taking a few steps back. Though pain no longer crippled him, Timothy remained where he was, silently watching as the world around him smeared, including the soldiers. The one who saved him tilted his head at the last second, almost like he was saying goodbye right before time picked up speed again.

Suddenly he was back in the present, blinking at the wall and still quite alive. The room was decidedly in a lot worse shape than it had been before he'd gotten shot; most of the consoles were busted and smoking, and the lights that hadn't been shattered were flickering and occasionally showering sparks down onto the floor below. One of the operating tables looked like...well, like its occupant had exploded violently. There were chunks of gore and puddles of blood all over the place, especially on the wall directly across from the table, like the man who had exploded tried to take out the other room's occupants with him.

Timothy had witnessed a few such occasions while in Tycho's Ribs - Eternal Instabilitys, they'd called them. As soon as they ascended, they began to bloat until - _pop_. And now that he thought about it, there had been one less soldier surrounding him a few seconds ago. Dude had probably gone supernova to help free his friends.

Someone grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and yanked him to his feet. He came face-to-face with a very disgruntled Wilhelm, who appeared to be torn between glaring him in the eyes and gaping down at his chest where a bullet had torn through his flesh and bone. His shirt was still red and wet, but the hole in his chest was gone.

"Problem?" Timothy asked, grinning.

The cyborg sneered and turned to shove him to his knees in front of Jack. The CEO was absolutely livid as he continued shouting orders at the guards behind them, demanding that they spread out and search for the mutated soldiers. As Jack turned to face him, Timothy noted the layer of grime and what looked like chunks of brain matter splattered along his right side; he must've gotten hit by splash damage from the Instability. No wonder he was so mad.

"You," Jack began through a voice shaking with rage, "are in big trouble, young man. Drag his stupid handsome ass to the holding cell - _the_ holding cell, Wilhelm - and then join the other idiots in hunting those bastards down! The whole space station could be in a buttload of trouble if - "

"You won't find them here," Timothy said without thinking. The words just stumbled out of his mouth. Though he had no proof, he somehow felt certain that the soldiers were gone, either on Elpis or down on Pandora. Anywhere was better than here.

Jack whirled to face him, his mask twisted up with rage. "If they're as smart as they are hideous, then they had better be gone," he hissed. "And after I'm through with you, you'll wish you'd gone with them."

Wilhelm dragged him into the bowels of Helios where the prison cells sat. Timothy didn't fight it, too content with his victory, until he realized Wilhelm was taking him past all the normal, fairly-accommodating holding cells towards the end of the hall. Apparently " _the_ holding cell" was nothing more than a hole in the wall with a ceiling too low for him to stand without hunching and walls so close together that he could touch them all if he spread his arms. The only amenity it came with was a solid metal door with a thin slit at the bottom of it to pass food trays in and out. There was no light source whatsoever, and there wasn't even a pot to squat in, Timothy noted grimly. Suddenly he wasn't feeling so victorious anymore.

Wilhelm tossed him in with more force than necessary, leaving him in a winded ball in the middle of the cell. The cyborg spared him no words, not even a taunt or a chuckle at his current predicament; he just slammed the door shut, plunging the room into complete darkness.

As Wilhelm's loud footsteps faded, Timothy slowly righted himself. He couldn't see anything, even his own hands a foot in front of his face. He could hear the sound of a leaky pipe dripping somewhere within the wall, which would explain the damp floor under his ass and the moldy smell currently invading his senses.

With nothing else to do, Timothy drew his knees up to his chest, leaned against the closest wall, and waited.

~

He waited for a day and a half before someone decided to bring him some food and water. A tray was slid underneath the door through the flap, followed by a canteen that only had maybe three spoonfuls of water inside. For Timothy, who hadn't consumed anything in almost three days, it was hardly enough.

Despite being lonely and miserable and shivering from more than just the damp floor, he didn't regret what he'd done. It barely made a dent in making up for all the rotten, awful things he had a hand in doing, but it was certainly a start. He wouldn't apologize for it, he swore.

That had been his thoughts on day one. By day five, he was a shaking, deprived mess tucked into the corner of the cell whimpering for his mother. It wasn’t just the isolation or the lack of nutrition and water driving him mad - he hadn’t had any of his pills in over a week and he was starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms in full force. To put it bluntly, he was a goddamned mess.

He wasn't sure how long he had been wallowing around in pain and anguish when his door was suddenly flung open, blinding him with light. He didn't have time to adjust to it before someone was yanking him to his feet and forcing him out into the hall.

The hands guided him to their destination: another room somewhere relatively close by. Judging by how their footsteps echoed in the new space, the room was fairly vacant and void of decorations of any kind. Another cell?

Rough hands forced him to lie flat on a raised, slightly tilted table. While hard and unforgiving on his spine, it was a welcome difference to the disgusting, uneven floor he'd been sleeping on. He might have even allowed himself to relax a moment if the guards hadn't pinned him flat and started to strap his limbs down. Thick, cold metal was coiled around his wrists, torso and legs faster than he could react. He could feel the straps around his brow and jaw, the cold metal plates on either side of his face that forced his head to remain facing the ceiling. Almost every last inch of him was now immobile.

The guards retreated, shutting the door as they went. Now the only noise filling the void was Timothy's rapid breathing. He had no idea what was to come. Torture, surely - but what kind? Would he be cut open and mutilated? Electrocuted? Eviscerated? The list was endless, really.

His vision slowly returned to him the more he blinked. There was a strange device above his head that almost resembled a giant gerbil water feeder, but before he could think more on it, he heard the door swing open with enough force to slam against the wall. Timothy didn't need to turn his head to know who it was.

"Hey there, pumpkin!" Jack said cheerfully, strutting into the room.

Timothy glared at him out of the corner of his eye. His boss was decked out in a new wardrobe - lots of layers, jeans, and, of all things, a pair of sneakers - and appeared to be in a very good mood.

"Thought I'd forgotten about you, huh?” Jack continued. “I almost did. Been super, super busy around here lately, but I won't bore you with the details. Enough about me - how've you been?"

Timothy frowned flatly at the ceiling because he couldn't turn his head to flash it at his boss. "If you're here to kill me, just get it over with," he rasped through gritted teeth.

"Ooh, someone's grumpy," Jack cooed as he pulled up a chair. He lounged backwards, tilting the thing on its hind legs as he swung his feet up to rest them on Timothy's chest. "I was going to kill you when I remembered you were still down here getting moldy and gross in some nasty holding cell," he admitted. "But - ah, what's that saying? Something about absence making the heart grow fonder or some bullshit? Whatever, my point is, I realized something about you, kitten. By pulling that stupid little stunt with the mutants, you proved to me that you _can_ be me if you put your mind to it. Yeah, half the people on this space station are dumber than a sack of potatoes, so really, fooling them isn't that big of a feat, but you've got the potential. And I do hate letting good potential go to waste."

"Bite me."

Jack squealed and almost fell backwards off his chair. "See? You're already halfway there!" he exclaimed gleefully, righting himself. "There's just the whole shitty attitude towards _me_ that has to change before I can release you to the public. Can't have you badmouthing your beloved boss now, can we?"

Timothy snorted. He would do a lot more than badmouth if he could have his way.

"This is what we're gonna do, kiddo: I'm gonna keep you here until you agree to work with me a bit. Don't worry, no one's gonna come in here and play around in your guts," he assured him, rising to his feet.

Timothy couldn’t suppress a flinch as Jack reached out and removed his mask. Timothy hadn’t been without it once in the dictator’s presence, fearful of repercussions. He barely even took it off when he ducked in the shower, for cripes sake.

Jack’s expression remained eerily blank as he observed Timothy’s scarred face, even as he reached out to rub his thumb over the edge of the brand on his cheek. Timothy had no idea what he was thinking, what to expect.

Eventually Jack moved on, turning to fiddle with the device hanging above Timothy's head. "Wouldn't want to scar that beautiful body of yours up worse than it already is, would we?” he continued softly as he slowly came back to his evil self. “Nah, this method is guaranteed not to leave any marks. Well, physical ones, at least."

He pulled back, and a split second later Timothy felt a drop of something ice cold splatter against his forehead. The device was a bucket of ice water, he realized, and the pipe-looking thing above his brow let the water slowly drip onto him in irregular spurts.

"Water torture?" Timothy wheezed, jerking his bound hands slightly. "Seriously?"

"Yup!" Jack said almost proudly. "Super boring to watch, but it's surprisingly effective. You'll see. I'll be back at some point to see how you're holding up. Toodles, princess!"

Timothy listened to Jack's retreating footsteps. The door sliding shut made a soft noise that was so final that it made Timothy’s chest constrict with fear for the first time since he’d been brought into the room.

It was just water, he reasoned desperately. It was a far cry easier to deal with than having someone come in here every day to break his fingers or cut off his eyelids or something. If he managed to get any drops rolling by his mouth, he'd be able to drink it, too. There were certainly plus sides to this.

That kind of thinking lasted him all of three hours before he was whimpering and twisting miserably in his bonds. His clothes, already damp and dirty from the awful cell he'd lived in for the past week, got wetter and wetter as the water ran off his face and down the slanted table. His hair became soaked, leaving him shuddering uncontrollably on the slab.

By far the worst part of it all was the inconsistency. The drops never fell at the same rate, leaving him unprepared and stressed out as he waited for the next onslaught. Once it took nearly three minutes for another drop to hit him, and another time it felt like someone was stabbing him in his forehead with a freezing cold knife over and over with how rapidly the drops were falling.

He couldn't sleep. He could barely think. The thoughts that did get through to him were brutal and violent, damning his stupid actions for getting him into this mess, for thinking he could be a goddamned hero or whatever it was he was trying to prove by freeing those goddamned soldiers.

Time became meaningless. He might have been strapped to that table for a day, maybe a week, before he finally heard the door open and close again.

"Mornin', sunshine," Handsome Jack cooed from close by. "You - aw, man, you look awful. Hang on, lemme get you outta this thing."

He felt hands on him - warm, dry hands - and began to unlock the restraints. As soon as he was free, he slid off the table into a wet, soggy pile in front of his boss, unable to move his swollen, half-frozen limbs.

"Wow, you look wrecked," Jack mused, frowning. "How do you feel, though? Good? Or am I going to have to schedule you for another round with this machine?"

It took Timothy far too long for force words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered, his voice wracked with defeat. "I'm sorry, sir. I'll be good now."

"You'll be good?"

Timothy tried to nod since his breath was hitching with sobs that strangled anything he attempted to say, but his whole body seemed broken and out of control. All he could do was sit there and whimper.

Jack crouched down in front of him, frowning in a way that almost made him look regretful. "Yes? 'Cos otherwise I gotta strap you back in, kiddo, and I really don't want to do that."

"I'll be good," Timothy cried weakly. He was starting to shake from the cold and his own broken mind. "Please don't put me back there, sir, please - "

"Oh, kiddo," Jack said sadly as he wrapped his arms around Timothy, drawing him closer into a hug.

Though a part of his brain was distantly screaming, Timothy allowed himself to be manhandled, allowed himself to lean heavily against the warmer man and enjoy the fingers carding through his wet hair. It was the first gentle touch he’d felt in such a long time and he wanted to cling to it for as long as possible.

"Have you learned your lesson? Are you gonna listen to Papa Jack now?"

Timothy nodded against Jack's shoulder, shuddering. "Yes, sir," he mumbled. "I'll be good, sir."

"Good." Jack gently pushed him back and retreated for a moment. When he returned, he presented Timothy’s mask to him. "What's your name?"

"Handsome Jack."

"Well, Handsome Jack, are you ready to get a dry change of clothes and start getting shit done around here?"

With a bit of effort, Timothy took the mask and clipped it back onto his face - back where it belonged. Whole again, he brought his head up and flashed an identical smirk at the other man. "Sure thing, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	11. Chapter 11

Lawrence paused in his story to accept the cup of water Maya graciously offered him. The irony of it didn’t escape him, but he drank it anyway, grateful for the chance to refresh his dry throat even if the water did taste like blood. He had been talking almost non-stop for an hour and a half now and he was starting to sound like it.

"I spent the next couple of weeks being bent and molded into a perfect Jack replica," he continued nonetheless. His story was far from over. "I went to meetings with him, followed him around in public - all the shit CEOs of major companies did. It got to the point where I was able to switch places with him during these events and no one was the wiser."

"And you didn't feel bad about it?" Mordecai asked. The sniper was leaning against the wall by the door, frowning. "Giving in, doing whatever that asshat wanted you to do?"

"Well, sure, _now_ I feel bad. I got a lot of people fired or worse because it's what Jack would've done."

Lawrence shuddered and pushed the glass away, suddenly nauseous and exhausted. He was trying not to let his emotions get the best of him as he spoke about the horrid things Jack put him through; he was doing a much better job than he thought he would, but the more he stopped to think about it, the harder it got not to be completely overwhelmed by the feeling of defeat.

"It's...strange,” he found himself musing out loud. “I remember what I did during that time, but I don't remember feeling anything. I just did whatever Jack wanted me to do without question. I became what he wanted me to be."

"A coping mechanism," Maya supplied suddenly, nodding. "I've read about this sort of thing. You were grateful that Jack stopped torturing you, so you did whatever he wanted. Many victims of abuse do the same."

Lawrence frowned down at his cup and grunted. "Makes sense," he agreed, though that fact didn’t make him hate himself any less. He hated himself for giving in, for crumbling so easily under Jack’s torture when the sadistic piece of shit had done so much worse to other people.

"What happened next?" Gaige asked quietly, noticing the grimace on his face. "I mean, obviously you stopped acting like Jack eventually, right?"

"Yes. But not for a long time."

"What caused it?"

Lawrence took another sip of water, if only to cleanse his throat. "I met someone," he said. "A young college kid about to make the stupidest decision of his life because he needed money."

Axton's lips quirked up in a smile. "Sounds familiar."

Lawrence hummed in agreement, cracking a small smile in return. "It took me a while to realize it, but I wanted to save him."

"Did you?"

The smile on Lawrence's face slipped away. "No."

~

"I'm gonna do what now?"

Handsome Jack flashed his body double an annoyed look from over the top of the ECHO device in his hands. "You are gonna be _teaching_ ," he said slowly, like Timothy was mentally challenged, "a new class of _body_ _doubles_. Pay attention to me when I speak, dumb-dumb."

Timothy's frown deepened as he lounged back in his chair. "Sounds lame," he grunted, fiddling with his sneakers. "Can't you, I dunno, do what you did with me and just make them listen to your amazing voice for sixteen hours? A lesson and a treat."

Jack snorted. "Clearly that wasn't enough for you."

That was as true a statement as it was threatening - a reminder that Timothy was on constant thin ice around Jack and that he should try harder. Timothy's battered mind snapped at him to be more cautious.

He cleared his throat. "How many?"

"About twenty."

Timothy whistled. "That's a lotta money to fork out for dudes who're all gonna wind up dead," he pointed out. "Did you find another galaxy-renowned plastic surgeon to do the deed since you offed the last one?"

"Ah," Handsome Jack said, finally setting the ECHO aside to sneer at his double. "This is why _I'm_ in charge and _you're_ just here to make me look even more handsome and competent."

Timothy didn't bother hiding his eye-roll, but kept his smart comments to himself for the time being.

"Do you remember the cloaking device that scientist gave you to give to me like, fifty years ago?" Jack continued.

"Gladstone," Timothy blurted, earning a quirked brow from the CEO. Timothy smoothly continued, "Yeah, I remember him. 'Cos it was more like a year ago."

"Whatever! Smartass. Anyway, I did some poking around inside the device and discovered a way to not just turn a man invisible, but change his appearance. Hold on." Jack slammed his fist down on the intercom system on his desk. "Blake! Get your skinny ass in here!"

"Right away, sir," came the instant reply.

Literally five seconds later, the door swished open and the vice president of Hyperion strode in, his steps quick but smooth. "You rang, sir?" Mr. Blake asked, coming to stand at the foot of Jack's desk next to Timothy.

Handsome Jack tossed him a replica of the pocket watch he kept on him at all times. "Put this on," he ordered.

Blake did without question. As soon as he slid the watch into his pocket, his entire appearance shimmered before Timothy's eyes, until suddenly he was staring at an exact replica of Handsome Jack - right down to the streak of gray in his perfectly slicked hair. The only thing amiss was his expression, which remained static even as Mr. Blake let out a small "interesting, sir," at his new state of being.

"Viola!" Handsome Jack exclaimed proudly. "All of the body double noobs are gonna be getting a copy of one of these babies to tide them over until the final product is released, which'll contain an update for the voice modulator and working facial features. Pretty ingenious, huh? Instant me for practically free - ooh, maybe that's what I'll call it! Instant Me." He cackled and sat back down. "Make a note of that, Blake. God, I'm so smart!"

"Genius, sir," Blake agreed.

Timothy rolled his eyes again and got to his feet, snagging the pocket watch out of Blake's pocket as he went. "Where exactly am I headed?" he asked Handsome Jack.

"I'll send you the coordinates via your ECHO," Jack said. "Five hour sessions from nine to two every day, fifteen minute break in between for lunch - no more, no less. I expect results by the end of the first day, which is today, so get your handsome little ass in gear and skedaddle down there ASAP."

"Sure thing, boss. Next important question: am I getting paid for this?"

The CEO snorted. "Your _payment_ is getting to be the only one of those losers to walk around as an actual organic version of me. But if you're gonna throw a pissy fit about it, I can have Jimmy here write you a check for a hundred grand on his way back to his office."

"It's Jeffrey, sir," Blake said.

"Sure thing, Jimmy." Jack's tone indicated that their meeting was over, so Timothy wasted little time in leaving the room.

He followed Blake to his office a few doors down and impatiently paced the length of the plain, clean room as the older man began to write him the check Jack promised him.

"How are you holding up?"

Timothy stopped mid-step and sent Blake a look. "The hell do you care? I'm doing my job," he snapped. "You do yours and I'll do mine and we'll all go home happy with pockets full cash."

Blake hummed, undeterred by Timothy's vicious tone. Timothy had been cruel towards him since Jack had snapped some sense into him all those weeks ago. When Blake found out about it, the man had dropped everything to come fuss over him - like they were _friends_ or something. Timothy practically snorted at the very idea. If they had been anything remotely close to being friends, Blake would have offered to help him get off Helios a long time ago.

 _Careful, kiddo_ , he could hear Jack hissing to him in the back of his head. _Those kinda thoughts are what got you into trouble to begin with._

Timothy shook himself. He’d be dreaming about that goddamned chair for sure tonight.

"Still taking your meds?" the vice president asked.

"Yes, _Dad_ , thank you for your concern. Less talking, more check-writing, pumpkin, chop-chop."

To his irritation, the vice president just quirked the corners of his lip up in a smirk as he began to fill out the blank, vibrant Hyperion-yellow check.

Timothy's eyebrows shot up as Blake added an extra zero. "Jack said a hundred grand."

"Indeed he did," Blake said. He signed his name, then held the check out to him.

Timothy pursed his lips, but said nothing more on the subject as he snatched the slip of paper out of Blake's hand and stuffed it into his coat pocket. That was the one good thing about wearing an absurd amount of layers - you never ran out of pocket space.

Thank-yous were below Jack, so Timothy said nothing, though he did spare Blake a somewhat grateful look before he turned and headed towards the waypoint on his ECHO. It was, of course, on the other side of the goddamned satellite, but at least he'd be able to hit the bank and deposit the check in the account Hyperion gave his family upon his death. He made his way there, pausing only to spit on some poor bumbling idiot who thought he was the real deal.

When he checked the balance of the account, he noted that some of the funds had been withdrawn recently. He wanted to be pleased, but for all he knew, Hyperion was just taking back what was theirs. He decided not to think about it and continue on his way.

The coordinates Jack sent him brought him to the mostly finished college campus that took up a good portion of the southern left hand side of the space station. Jack had deemed it completed enough to use, so there were already some students and faculty roaming the campus, preparing for the upcoming semester.

Timothy almost envied them. There were things about college that he missed dearly - the freedom, the ability to skip classes whenever he wanted to take a much-needed nap after failing yet another math test - but he wouldn't go back. The homework, stress, and knowing that you were going to be paying off tuition costs for the rest of his life were absolutely not worth it.

His destination was in one of the smaller buildings the campus had to offer, one so ingeniously titled "Handsome Jack Hall of Awesome Learning." He entered the designated room with a storm of Handsome Jack-like gusto that left the room's occupants either flinching in terror or clapping loudly in ovation. Most looked shellshocked to be in what they thought was Handsome Jack’s presence.

As soon as the crowd stopped being obnoxious, he crushed their dumb little dreams under his heel.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, kiddos, but I’m not the real deal,” he said, sneering. “Fooled ya though, didn’t I?”

A hushed silence filled the room. A few people exchanged glances before turning back to face him, still looking rather awestruck as they began murmuring, “The First.”

Timothy cocked a brow. “The what?”

“Y-you’re the First,” one of the men spoke up. He was young, probably late twenties, but right now he was gazing at Lawrence with all the adoration of a child. “The First body double. You’re like, a legend around here, sir.”

“Huh.” Timothy’s eyebrows drifted up with a mixture of pleasure and surprise. He never expected to have any form of following on this dumb space station. He wasn’t sure whether he should be a little disturbed or preen at the praise. Jack would settle for preening, obviously, so that's what Timothy went with as well. “Well, for our little training sessions, you’ll address me as ‘sir’ or ‘your highness,’ ‘cos I am Handsome Jack, CEO of Hyperion. Capiche?”

The classroom nodded and murmured affirmations. They were still subtly excited, if their barely-concealed smiles and quick glances at each other were any indication, but Timothy didn’t have the willpower to tell them to knock it off.

The next hour and a half was spent explaining to these poor fools what the rest of their life was going to be like, assuming they even got hired. Timothy needed to arrange one-on-ones with each person to see if they had what it takes to be as awesome as Handsome Jack. He wasn’t really looking forward to that, but as much as he wanted to just hire everyone and call it a day, he knew Jack would have his ass on a platter if he tried. He could already tell that there were some creepazoids in the audience that definitely wouldn’t make the cut.

He ordered one of the many guards in the room to start handing out the prototype cloaking devices from a box that had been delivered prior to class starting.

"Test these out," he ordered from behind the teacher’s desk, "then watch this video until I call you in for your one-on-one. There'll be a pop quiz afterwards, so pay attention unless you wanna be escorted off the premises for being a dumbass. And by that, I mean shot out an airlock."

One by one the room became filled with Handsome Jack lookalikes. The holograms didn't have working facial features yet, so Timothy was left staring at rows of cardboard cutout Jacks that stared blankly back at him.

"Freaky," he muttered, then shook himself off. "Okay! You, with the handsome face! Come meet me in the office back here, pumpkin. We're gonna have a little chat."

So it began. The first couple of people Timothy interviewed in the back office of the classroom - poor fools just looking for a job - would fit the bill nicely. There was one spaz who clearly wanted nothing more than to be in Jack's presence all day every day, so Timothy waved a guard over to drag the fanboy kicking and screaming out of the classroom. Other than that, things went fairly smoothly.

Timothy was on the last row of people when one of them caught his eye. He was looking hideously uncomfortable and very un-Jack like, even with the hologram hiding all of his features. Timothy made his way over and proceeded to scare the shit out of him by slamming his fists down on the table hard enough to make his hands throb in protest.

"Sir!" the boy squealed, voice modulator crackling. He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over, and stood at attention.

Timothy twisted his fake face into a sneer. "One-on-one time, kiddo," he said, beckoning him with a crooked finger.

The kid hurried after him into the smaller office and hesitantly took a seat in front of the desk. He remained staring down at his fake new hands in his lap until Timothy cleared his throat, again, making him flinch.

"You're a little twitchy, princess. You sure you want this job?" Timothy asked him.

"J-just nervous, sir. I promise I'll be the best you I can be," the kid babbled.

"What's your name?"

"Adam," he replied quietly.

Timothy smirked and leaned forward. "Wrong. As long as you have that watch activated, you're Handsome Jack. Adam is dead."

The boy nodded. "Y-yessir."

"What's your name?"

"Handsome Jack." It fell out of the kid's mouth like a rock.

"Good. Are you part time or full?"

"Uh - p-part time," Not-Adam said, sounding almost ashamed that he couldn't devote his entire life to embodying Handsome Jack. Timothy made a note of that. "I can work full time until the end of next month. I've got classes in the mornings starting then - but my evenings are completely free!"

"What, no social life to tend to?" Timothy asked, only half serious.

"No, sir. Just...a lot of impending debt to pay off," the kid mumbled, wilting in his seat. "I need this job, sir. I'll do whatever it takes."

Something stabbed Timothy repeatedly in the back of his ribs, but he ignored it as he rose to his feet and stuck out his hand. "Well, kiddo, consider yourself hired. Welcome to the best club in the entire universe. Handsome Jacks only."

The kid jumped up and clasped Timothy's hand in both of his as he babbled out thank-yous and promises to be the best body double ever. The twisted smile on Timothy's face never left him, even as the realization that he'd just sealed this kid's fate burrowed its way into his chest cavity.

~

It was only later on that night that Timothy realized what he’d done. He’d been lounging in front of the fake fireplace - the very same one Jack had thrown his ECHO device into - and sipping at a beer when something cold began to claw at the back of his head.

He sat there getting more and more irritated by the sensation until he could no longer stand it. He stormed into the bathroom, barking at the lights to turn on, and braced himself on the sink as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Handsome Jack’s angry face stared back at him.

 _You just sentenced that kid to death_ , a quiet, sad part of his mind whispered.

“My name is Handsome Jack,” he said in reply.

What did Handsome Jack care if that kid died? He knew what he was signing up for. He read and signed the contract. They all did. It was a goddamned _privilege_ to be chosen for this kind of work.

“My name is Handsome Jack,” Timothy said again. He didn’t sound any more confident than he had the first time he said it.

He plunged his fist through the mirror, patched his bloodied knuckles up, then climbed into bed for a fitful, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes. Please heed the content warnings for this chapter!

By the time Timothy dragged his feet back to Jack's office, he was starving. He was physically and mentally exhausted for having to pretend to be Jack for almost an entire week straight and wanted nothing more than to give his stupid boss his stupid report on the new stupid doubles and then drag his ass off to bed for a decent night's sleep.

So, of course, the second the door to Jack's office swung open, he was assaulted by loud, pulsating music and the smell of smoke, booze, and sex - more so than usual, which meant only one thing.

"Great," he groused, hesitantly inching over the threshold.

The dim room was packed with people that Timothy didn't recognize, but thankfully none of them were clogging up the path that lead up to Jack’s desk. That didn’t improve Timothy’s mood any, however; he was still seething by the time he climbed up there.

"Jack! The hell is this?" he snapped over the music. "You didn't tell me you were having a party! In your goddamned office, no less!"

Had Jack been sober, he might've given Timothy a black eye for his gall. As it was, the CEO merely cackled and leaned back in his golden plush chair. "Live a little, Tim-Tam!" he exclaimed, and holy shit, he must be out of his mind to address him by more or less his real name. Timothy shot a nervous glance around the room, but nobody seemed to have noticed Jack's slip up.

"I - whatever. I finished teaching the doubles class for today. You - you wanted a report by the end of the week and everything's going good," he said quickly, wanting to get in and out of this mess as soon as possible. He started to backpedal. "I'm gonna go - do - something else now. Have fun - "

"Oh, no no no!" Jack jerked to his feet. "Listen, kiddo, I wanna apologize for what happened the other day. The whole," he slowly rotated his wrist, got distracted by his twitchy fingers, then snapped back to himself, "head. Water. The water torture thing. I'm sorry."

Timothy swallowed hard. "It's fine, sir," he lied. "Can I go now - "

"I wanna make it up to you," Jack continued, slinging an arm around his shoulders. He began to drag Timothy towards his desk where piles upon piles of drugs sat. "Take your pick, kiddo."

"B-but I can't combine any of this with - "

"With _what_? S'not like you're on medication or anythin'," Jack slurred, somehow managing to look ready to strangle him despite not being able to focus his eyes on anything for longer than three seconds. "Handsome Jack doesn't need drugs for anything other than having a good time."

Timothy's heart began to beat wildly in his chest as Jack gestured to the array of neon-colored powders and pills tossed across his desk. He didn't know what any of this shit was, and frankly, he was afraid to ask. A lot of it looked like it shouldn't be consumed in any form whatsoever.

Apparently he was taking too long for Jack's liking. "Here, just use this one," he said, snagging a small baggie of green powder. "It's my favorite. It'll knock you right on your ass in two seconds, I promise."

"S-sir, please, I - how about I just have a drink? I could really, really go for a shot or two or something." At least he could throw that up on purpose and still have it look like an accident.

But Jack wasn't listening to his nervous babble as he reclined his chair almost all the way back. A sober Jack was violent enough. He had never seen his boss in such a state before, though he knew that he partook in drugs on a fairly consistent basis, usually whenever Nisha was around.

"Do a line off my abs," he slurred, lifting up his shirt. His "abs" had seen better days, but spending all day hunched over a computer instead of running around shooting up Pandora will do that.

Jack formed a line of the neon green powder from his navel down towards his belt, which was half undone. The line was only an inch long, but Timothy's gut still clenched at the thought of all of that going into his system.

Where was Blake when he needed him? He shot a frantic look around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man, but it was too dark to make out anyone's features. Mr. Blake was a sane human being; surely he wouldn't be within a mile of this place.

"Time's a wastin', cupcake." Jack snagged him by the front of his shirt and shoved him face-first into his gut, right on top of the line. Timothy sputtered and sent most of the line drifting through the air and across Jack's pants, but some of it made it into his mouth and nose, sending him into a coughing and gagging fit.

Jack thought the whole damn thing was hilarious, of course, and released his grip on his body double to clap like a giddy little kid. "There ya go! You'll start feelin' it soon, kiddo. It'll help loosen the stick up your ass for sure."

Timothy staggered backwards, hands over his mouth and nose. Tears burned the corners of his eyes for several reasons, the foremost being that he was pretty sure he’d gotten some of the goddamned drug in them. Great, he'd probably go blind in his only working eye.

With Jack becoming distracted by one of his underlings, Timothy took the opportunity to stumble off, almost twisting his ankle as he descended the staircase. He plopped down on the edge of one of the absurd fountains Jack had in his office, still rubbing the grit away from his orifices, when he suddenly became aware of the fact that he was no longer sober.

Whatever Jack had given him didn't quite send him into a psychedelic wonderland. In fact, all it seemed to do was mellow him out to the point of being sleepy. His heartbeat was louder, he noted, but slower. He could hear it in his ears. He was pretty sure he could hear his blood being pumped through his body, too. He spent a good ten minutes staring down at the veins in his wrist, trying to see the phenomena for himself, before reality tapped him on the shoulder.

He looked up into Mr. Blake's frowning face. "Hello," he said.

"What did he give you?" Blake asked quietly. Somehow, despite the thudding of his heart and the thrumming of the loud music blaring in the room, Timothy heard him perfectly.

"Green," he said. "Powder. Said it was his favorite. Am I in trouble? I didn't want to take anything, Mr. Blake, I swear."

The vice president’s frown deepened. "How much did he give you?"

Timothy shrugged. "A lot. But I only inhaled a little. I'm hungry."

Blake gave a heavy sigh. "Wait here," he said, then vanished into the crowd. When he returned, he was holding a plastic plate with a handful of those little mini ham and cheese sandwiches on it. "Will this do?"

Timothy grinned and gratefully accepted the plate. "You're the man now, dog," he mumbled in between bites.

"Pardon?"

"I dunno." Timothy blinked several times. "I think this shit's wearing off. Can - I want to go. Before he tries to force-feed me something else."

He shot a panicked glance towards Jack's desk where he was doing a line of something pink and glowing off of his own arm. There were a few people around him who tittered with laughter and excitement as they fawned over their CEO.

Blake went to help him to his feet, but froze when the doors to the office swished open, revealing none other than Nisha in all her threatening glory. Timothy hadn't seen her in a while, not since she donned her new sheriff garb and started ruling some poor town down on Pandora with an iron fist. Her hair was slightly longer, her outfit different, but she still wore a cowboy hat atop her head.

"Ba-a-abe!" Jack squealed, opening his arms. He looked genuinely happy underneath the drug haze that had settled over him. "Glad you could make it! I saved some of the good stuff for ya! C'mere!"

Nisha strode forward, ignoring the stares from the Hyperion employees who no doubt thought of her as nothing more than a bandit, given her getup and the numerous guns hanging off her person.

She caught Timothy's gaze and stopped walking to smirk at him. "Hey there, kiddo," she said. "Long time no see. How's the face underneath that handsome mask?"

Abruptly Timothy's mood soured. "I'd show you, but you'd probably just find it hot," he snarked back. Plus Jack would kill him if he whipped it off in front of all these people, inebriated or not.

Her sneer grew, parting her lips enough to expose the whites of her teeth. In the dim light, she looked like a wolf. "I see Jack's whipped you into shape like a good little dog. Months ago you would've burst into tears if I'd mentioned your branding party."

No, he was pretty sure he would have waited until after she was out of earshot to start crying, thank you. But he didn't want to spend any more time talking to this woman, so he kept his mouth shut and let his angry gaze drift to the floor.

Nisha looked at Mr. Blake. Her sneer turned into a smile that she tended to flash around Jack whenever they were being grossly intimate. "How's my favorite vice president doing?" she purred, curling an arm around his shoulders. "Haven't seen you in a long time either. You really need to get out more, Blake."

"Good evening, Ms. Kadam," Blake drawled, expression as flat as his tone. "It's nice to see you. How's Lynchwood fairing?"

"Oh, dandy," she replied, reaching out to fiddle with Blake's tie. "Slaughtered a bunch of bandits today when they tried to raid the mines. It was lots of fun."

"I'm sure it was."

"Nisha-a-a," Jack whined from his desk. He was spinning around in his stupid chair. "Stop flirting with Jimmy and pay attention to me!"

"I can do both," the lady said as she started for the steps, dragging Blake by his tie along behind her. The man sent Timothy a wide-eyed look over his shoulder - a silent plea for help that he might not have even realized he was sending. Timothy watched, numb, as Nisha hauled Blake up to Jack's desk.

No, no, no, shrieked a tiny voice in the back of his head. He couldn't let this happen. Timothy jerked to his feet and realized that he was still a little high, but he made his way up the staircase regardless. He peered around Nisha, who had paused in roughing up Blake to inspect one of the many baggies scattered across the table.

"Pants off, Blake," Jack said through a nasty, child-like grin that Nisha echoed. "I wanna do a line off those pasty sticks you call thighs."

Blake's jaw dropped. "Sir - "

"Seriously?" Timothy snorted, earning a drunken, murderous glare from his boss. "He's like, seventy years old, sir. You can do better than this."

Jack sneered at him. "'Course I can, idiot! I'm Handsome fuckin' Jack," he snapped. "I can have anyone I want. Even you, sweetcheeks. Ain’t that right?" It was a challenge, if his smirk was any indication.

Timothy felt his mouth curl into a sneer that rivaled even Jack's. "All you had to do was ask," he said, shrugging out of his jacket.

~

The sound of Athena slamming her chair onto the ground snapped Lawrence out of his story. He jerked, startled, and watched as the gladiator sent the chair flying towards the balcony with a furious kick.

"Athena!" he exclaimed, bewildered. "What - what's wrong?"

"What's _wrong_?" she parroted, shoulders shaking with rage. "That bastard - he - if he wasn’t already dead, I’d…!”

Realization cast a calm sensation over Lawrence as he regarded the older woman. "Athena," he began softly. "It's okay - "

"It's _not_!" she roared, whirling around to face him. Her cheeks were flushed, her brow furrowed. "It's not okay," she repeated.

Lawrence turned to Lilith. "Can we take another break?"

"Fifteen minutes," the siren muttered, also rising to her feet. “Mordy, get some rakk ale from Moxxi’s. The good stuff.”

“On it,” the sniper grunted, sounding equally sour.

Lawrence blinked, suddenly aware that most of the room's occupants looked ready to either throw up or flip some tables. Gaige was pale and rigid in her seat, Maya was chewing on the inside of her lip, and Axton was glaring at the wall so hard it was a wonder how it hadn’t melted under all that focused rage. Lawrence wanted to say something to put them all at ease, but what could he possibly offer?

Athena stormed onto the balcony, and Lawrence hurried after her, desperately wanting her to calm down at least.

"Athena, please," he begged quietly. He wanted to approach her, but she was pacing the length of the balcony like an angry animal. He knew from experience not to approach her when she was in this sort of state. "Just - take a deep breath."

"I shouldn't have left you there," she continued to snarl. “I should - I should have come back to get you. God, what was I _thinking_?”

She continued to fume and mutter and curse everything. Lawrence stood in the doorway, silently watching, until she finally ran out of steam and stood staring out at the town. It was only then he approached her, coming to stand at her side.

“It was consensual,” he muttered. “I knew what I was getting into, and - Jack was the literal worst thing ever, okay, but he never forced anyone like that. Well, that I know of.”

Athena scoffed, but the tension in her stance began to bleed out of her. “I should have come back for you,” she said again. It was something that would probably plague her until she died, Lawrence knew.

“My mom used to tell me that we can’t spend the rest of our lives dwelling on what we could have or should have done,” he told her gently, reaching over to lay his hand over hers. “I’m okay now. You are, too.”

It was easy to say those words, but actually believing it was damn near impossible. At least it seemed to be affecting Athena to some degree. A few more minutes of deep breathing and easy silence allowed her to return to the meeting room without feeling the urge to kick any more chairs.

Soon enough, the rest gang regrouped, now substantially boozed up, and Lawrence continued his tale.

~

Timothy didn't see Blake for the rest of the night. He didn't see much of anything, to be honest - not after popping two or three multicolored pills and planting himself in Handsome Jack's lap. He did remember shimmying out of it shortly afterward so that Nisha could take over, and he had a vague recollection of stumbling his way out of Jack's office and back towards his apartment, which would explain why he was suddenly coming back to consciousness in his own bathtub, the front of his shirt splattered with a technicolor vomit.

One shower later, he was feeling slightly more with it. His memory of last night was still a partial blur, but he was content to not remember much of it. He had made it out in one piece, and so had Blake. That was what mattered.

He was in the middle of taking his medication when there came a knock at his door. Timothy tightened his Hyperion-issued bathrobe and shuffled over to the door, hesitant to open it.

Mr. Blake stood on the other side, paler than usual and frowning down at his shoes. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket, which Timothy found odd, but he didn't care enough to comment on it. Instead he leaned against the threshold and flashed the man an expectant look, silently urging him to get on with whatever it was he was struggling to spit out.

"Why did you do that yesterday?" Blake asked eventually.

"You're welcome," Timothy snapped, scowling.

The older man flinched, officially chastised. "I-I apologize," he said quickly. "I am grateful for what you did. So...yes. Thank you."

Timothy hummed faintly. "Is that all?"

Blake fidgeted for a moment. "I would like to repay you," he offered. "Anything you wish. If it's within my power, I should add."

Had Blake approached him two months earlier, Timothy would have demanded his freedom. Hell, a phone call home would have sufficed. But Timothy was hardly Timothy anymore. He was Handsome Jack's body double - the First and the best one Jack had. He had everything he could ever want right here on Helios, and he told Blake as such.

"Well...should you change your mind, you know where to find me," Blake said quietly. He nodded in farewell and turned away, but paused just as Timothy was about to shut the door. There was a strange look on his face as he met his gaze. "Don't lose yourself completely, Timothy. Nothing lasts forever. Even Hyperion."

Hearing his old name brought feeling back into his limbs, if only for a moment. Blake disappeared down the hall, and Timothy continued to stand in the doorway for a long time, thinking.

~

A day later, he returned to his room exhausted and nursing a headache from teaching all day. There was a pile of envelopes and small packages sitting outside his door that he ignored, assuming it was just more of Jack's growing supply of fan mail. He'd only been CEO for half a year, yet he already had a growing fan base, mostly made up of younger kids eager for change. Jack usually sent all the hand-written letters and shit his way for him to forge a reply (seriously, who still sent snail mail in this day and age?) unless a legitimate gift was included, like booze or sex-related stuff that Timothy did his best not to think about. Jack hoarded those.

It was only after he'd showered and ate that Timothy dragged the pile of crap inside to sort through. It was super annoying having to actually reply to each and every stupid letter, but it beat getting shot at on the moon or down on Pandora.

Most of the letters were from younger kids too stupid to see the kind of horror Handsome Jack was bringing to this company, never mind the rest of the galaxy. Some of them were enrolled in the college that had recently been built, no doubt in an effort to get closer to their idol. Some of their letters included little gifts - chocolates and candies that had to be incinerated for safety reasons, candles that smelled like gunpowder or sex, that kind of garbage. Some of the fans got creative with their gifts, going as far as to send in drawings or plushies they had hand-crafted of their beloved CEO. Timothy burned those alongside the food.

He saved the bigger box for last. There was no return address, Timothy noted wearily, nor did it have Jack's name on it. That was usually a bad sign. As he cut through the packaging tape, he braced himself for anything, like a bomb that somehow made it through the security scans going off the second he pulled the flaps back. Nothing of the sort happened, of course. Timothy didn't know whether he was disappointed or not.

Inside was an ECHO device probably containing porn. It wouldn't be the first time someone sent Jack something like this, though he usually watched it once or twice before getting rid of it or filing it away if it was halfway decent. Why Jack had overlooked this one was beyond Timothy.

At least, until he flipped it on and discovered not porn, but a series of files, all titled with various lines that could only be the result of someone smashing their hands on the keyboard. Despite being completely nonsensical, Timothy still managed to find a handful of them familiar.

His heart began to thump wildly in his chest. "No way," he breathed, opening one of the files.

Up popped the rough outline of the novel he had spent most of his college years fleshing out. The names of his characters, the worlds he built, the plotlines he'd mapped out - it was all there, exactly the way he'd left it before becoming a nameless body double. A strangled noise escaped him as he opened another file, this one containing the rough outline of a chapter. He thought all of this had been lost years ago courtesy of Hyperion.

With shaking hands, he snagged his personal ECHO and dialed Blake's extension. It only rang once before Blake's tired, deep voice answered his call.

"Yes, sir?"

"The hell's this? What did you send me?"

Blake paused a moment when he realized it wasn't Handsome Jack hailing him. "I thought you might enjoy it," he replied politely.

"But how? How did you even recover this stuff?" Timothy babbled, scrolling through the pages of awful first drafts and character backstories. "They - they told me they got rid of every last thing tied to Timothy Lawrence after I went under the knife."

"Yes, well, the bloody fool that tackled the oh-so-exhausting task of deleting your personal files did a terrible job."

"Goddamn, Blake, I..." Timothy sucked in a shuddering breath. "Thank you."

"Of course. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Timothy flicked the ECHO off and flopped back onto his bed, crushing the letters he had painstakingly sorted through. He held the ECHO to his chest, unwilling to let it go - not when it contained all the things that made him who he was. For the first time in months, he felt more like Timothy Lawrence and less like Handsome Jack. And he kind of wanted it to stay that way.

That night, Timothy dreamed of a little red farmhouse in the backwoods of Eden.


	13. Chapter 13

Pandora at night was actually kind of nice, Lawrence decided as he gazed quietly up at the twinkling sky. Helios was still an abomination against Elpis, and sometimes a winged beast or two would fly by overhead and shriek something awful, but otherwise it was pretty peaceful. Lawrence found himself thinking that, given the chance, he could probably get used to this sort of thing.

Lilith of all people decided to join him on the balcony, a bottle of rakk ale in hand as she swaggered over to his side. Lawrence grew tense, but the siren made no move to attack him. In fact, what she said next made his jaw fall open slightly in surprise.

"I appreciate you telling us all of this," she said quickly, like the words stung her tongue. "It can't be easy reliving all of it."

"It's...therapeutic, in a way," Lawrence said, shrugging slightly. Axton was right. "Feels good to talk about it, even the shitty parts. Not sure how it's going to help you guys any, though."

"Well, for one thing, it'll help me decide whether or not to let you live."

Lawrence chuckled, only to break out in a nervous sweat when he realized that the siren wasn't laughing with him. "Oh," he said lamely. "Well, uh, I hope you...like what you're hearing then. I guess."

"Like it? No." She turned to go back inside. "But I think I'm beginning to understand some things."

Lawrence had no idea what those things were, and he wasn't about to ask. He hesitantly followed her back inside the meeting room. It was the usual crew: Athena, Axton, Gaige, and Maya, though Mordecai would continue poke his head in from time to time when things got especially morbid. Which reminded him...

"Someone should tell Brick that things are about to get violent in my story," Lawrence said suddenly.

"How violent are we talkin'?" Axton asked, leaning forward a little.

"Well, I get shot. So do a bunch of other people. Spoiler alert, by the way."

The commando frowned, feigning anger. "Dude, spoilers."

"Sorry." Lawrence forced a grin onto his face as he took his seat.

~

Timothy awoke the next morning sore from sleeping on top of all of Jack's fanmail, but otherwise feeling more level-headed than he had in a long time. There was only one thing he wanted to accomplish today, but in order to do it, he would need to keep up the facade he'd been wearing for the last few weeks.

It was easy enough to let "Jack" take over and get him through most of the morning meetings in Handsome Jack's office. They were hardly meetings - mostly just Jack boasting about his latest accomplishments. Apparently Jack had been traveling to and from Hyperion HQ all last night and was very clearly sleep-deprived, which made him even more awful to be around. Five minutes in and he had already shot some poor intern out the airlock in his office.

"Anyway," the CEO declared as soon as the kid's blue, bloated face disappeared beyond the huge window that stood behind his desk, "I want updates! You, the handsome guy with the face," he barked, jabbing a finger in Timothy's direction, "how're my doubles coming along? They ready for the front lines yet?"

"Nearly perfect, sir," Timothy replied, inspecting his nails for any dirt. "I reckon another three days or so and you'll have a hot army waiting to die for you."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "It's been almost two weeks, kiddo," he gritted out. "I know I'm this complex creature with many layers or whatever, but I’ve got important people from HQ coming in three days and I need these asshole doubles of mine to be ready!”

“They’ll be ready,” Timothy said, subtly rolling his eyes as he continued to pick at his nails. “Don’t you worry your handsome head over it, boss.”

He kinda deserved the kick in the shin he got from Jack as soon as the meeting was adjourned, but he sure as hell didn’t have to like it.

Three days later, said important people from HQ arrived for an extensive tour of the constructed space station and a lengthy run-down of all the terrible shit Handsome Jack had planned for the company. Timothy didn’t know who these pretentious, suit-clad assclowns were in particular, nor did he really care. Jack told him to pick a handful of his new body doubles and follow them around, so that’s what he did.

Hours into the grueling tour, Timothy glanced behind him at the real Jack, who was chattering away with the poor saps from HQ about one thing or another. Convinced that no one was watching him, he turned to Adam, who was dragging his feet next to him. He probably shouldn’t have given the kid the go-ahead to join this mission - he was still twitchy and not at all comfortable in his holo-skin - but if Timothy’s plan played out without a hitch, Adam wouldn’t have to worry about donning the cloaking device ever again.

"Listen," he hissed to the kid, snagging his attention, "I know you need money, but there're easier ways to pay off your debts. Take it from me: this is _not_ the job for someone like you, dude. Get out while you can."

After suffering through over two weeks of Timothy being as rude and harsh as the real Jack, hearing him spouting this kind of stuff now understandably rendered Adam mute for a good thirty seconds.

He recovered almost instantly as he sneered at Timothy, trying to stay in character. "I think I can handle it, um, kiddo."

"No, you can't," Timothy insisted. "I couldn't handle it and look what happened to me."

Adam stopped walking and turned to face him, now looking pale even with the disguise active. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly, seemingly afraid to hear his response. A split second later he snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. "This is a test, isn't it? Nice try, pumpkin, but I'm - I'm not fallin' for it."

"What? No!" Timothy's mouth continued to move, but it took a moment before anything more tumbled out. "Listen to me. I was like you when I took this job," he explained, casting another quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the real Handsome Jack was still preoccupied. "Desperate for cash. Sick of doing...unsavory things just to make ends meet. I thought this would be an easy solution - but it's not, it's worse - "

"Stop," Adam choked out. "I-I can't. I'd rather - "

"You'd rather put your life on the line for some egocentric tyrant who doesn't deserve it? Your _life_?"

The kid wilted again and turned away; Timothy could practically hear his brain whirring a mile a minute as he struggled to think.

Timothy sighed through his teeth and gave Adam's shoulder a quick squeeze, making his Handsome Jack image flicker. "Look, I know a dude who owes me some favors," he said, urging the kid to start walking again as Jack and cronies began to migrate towards the next big thing he wanted to expand on or whatever. "Let me talk to him, maybe he can hook you up with another gig that sucks a little less and doesn't involve you lining up to die every time you wake up in the morning."

"Why are you helping me?" Adam whispered.

"Because it's too late to help myself," Timothy would have said had the thunderous sound of a gun going off not smothered his words.

Adam hit the ground hard at Timothy's feet. The Handsome Jack hologram around his body flickered away, revealing the young man in his awful state. Both of his hands were clawing at the gaping hole in his neck, his eyes wide open and rolling wildly in his head. Awful noises gurgled out of his gaping mouth, his shredded throat unable to produce anything else.

"Adam," Timothy choked out, falling to his knees beside the boy. Time seemed to slow around them as he fumbled for the wound in his throat, trying to clot the steady flow of blood with his hands, but the kid was dead before it made a difference, his gaze empty and staring skyward.

Someone in Jack's group screamed as another shot went off, sending another double to his knees with a shower of blood and a gargled cry. This time it was the one who had subtly switched places with the real Handsome Jack about ten minutes ago. The crowd began to scream anew, no doubt thinking the real deal had just been assassinated.

Timothy's gaze snapped to the person responsible for all of this. One of the doubles was standing before the entire group, the Hyperion-issued revolver clutched tightly in his hands.

A spy, Timothy's mind supplied helpfully right before the man fired off another round, catching one of Jack's fleeing assistants in the leg.

"Holy shit!" one of the other doubles exclaimed, only to silenced by a round to the fake handsome face. The hologram fizzled out along with the poor bastard's life, revealing a middle-aged man in a bloodied pile on the floor.

His name was Dave, Timothy thought absurdly. He took the job to support his wife and three young children.

By then the real Handsome Jack, the mooks from HQ, and their horde of assistants had begun to backpedal back down the narrow hall. While the corporate monkeys wailed and cowered behind each other, Jack, the real one, had a rather blasé expression on his face.

"Somebody wanna murder this nut-job, please?" he said through an annoyed sigh.

The Loader Bots behind him lifted their arms and sent a volley of bullets in the assassin's direction, but he dodged the stagnant fire with a quick side step that brought him a few feet closer to Timothy. A quick fumbling at his fake belt had the assassin revealing a universal remote of all things - there were only like, four in existence, for fuck’s sake - that he quickly used to shut the robots off.

As they crumbled to the floor in useless metal piles, Jack's hard exterior began to crack with the realization that his life was legitimately in danger. When the assassin moved to point the gun at his head again, he snagged the closest person - Mr. Blake - and forced him in front of him as a living shield.

The gun went off. Mr. Blake grunted, but otherwise didn't make a noise.

All of the pent-up rage and frustrations from the past five weeks finally erupted out of Timothy. With a howl of fury, he launched himself at the assassin, intent on snapping his neck. The man saw him too late and couldn't swivel his gun arm around in time to make a shot. Timothy collided hard with him and dragged him down onto the ground, the impact stunning them both for a split second.

Timothy quickly recovered his wits and straddled the guy, trying to snag the gun from his hand. In the scuffle, the gun went off again, lodging a bullet in Timothy's upper arm, but he barely felt the pain, too enraged to feel anything but the desire to end this bastard's life. He got his wish shortly after he managed to bash the pistol out of the assassin's hand and snatch it up himself. The logical side of his brain urged him to keep the man alive so that Hyperion could learn just who the hell sent him, but his anger was far too potent to be ignored. Timothy pulled the trigger, splattering the man's brains all over the floor around them. The Handsome Jack hologram flickered out, exposing the spy's true colors: greens and grays. Dahl.

An hour passed, or maybe it was only a minute or two, when Timothy felt someone gently touch his shoulder. He jerked to his feet, more so to get away from whoever was encroaching on his space, but calmed slightly when he realized it was only Mr. Blake. The man was pale, more so than usual, but otherwise looked normal.

"Are you all right?" Timothy asked anyway before the other man could say anything.

Mr. Blake hesitated before he nodded and pulled the collar of his shirt down, revealing the black and yellow strap of a bullet proof vest. "Bruised and winded, but fine. You're the one who needs medical attention."

Timothy shrugged his good shoulder. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding."

"It doesn't matter."

"You've been shot," Mr. Blake snapped flatly, sending him an irritated look. "You need to go to the medical ward."

Timothy took a step back. "I told you I'm done with hospitals," he snarled, though his voice was shaking beneath all of the anger. "I can fix this on my own."

Before the older man could continue to tell him what an idiot he was being, Timothy turned and made a break for his room. It was miles away on the other side of the goddamned space station, unfortunately, which left him looking like a damn fool as he stumbled through the thick crowds of Helios with a bleeding arm and a disheveled appearance very unbefitting of the CEO of Hyperion. He didn't care.

By the time he made it behind familiar closed doors and into his bathroom, he was suffering from blood loss and one hell of a headache, probably a result of dehydration. He ignored his symptoms and set about getting the first aid kid - the legitimate one Athena had made him after one too many bullets had gotten lodged in his body. She had showed him how to dig one out of easy-to-reach places after she herself had gotten shot; it had been gross to watch, but Timothy had known this kind of knowledge would come in handy some day. That day was this day.

Having a bullet dug out of your flesh was always an awful experience, but apparently even more so if you had to be the one to do it for yourself. The scraping of tools against the shrapnel made Timothy grind his teeth to keep from flinching. His entire arm vibrated violently with each scrape. His motions were jerky for more than one reason. He agitated the skin around the entry wound, but the pain was nothing compared to what Adam had gone through.

"Stop being such a baby," he snarled to himself, voice hoarse.

He jabbed himself harder, wiggling the tool against the ball of shrapnel, until finally he was able to grasp it with tweezers and all but yank the damn thing out of his flesh. He should have been more gentle, but he didn't deserve it.

The blood-covered bullet remains rolled out of his arm and clanked noisily against the bathroom tiles. Timothy left it there as he began to stitch himself up with some Anshin medical thread that would help speed up the healing process. A dash of disinfectant spray - perhaps more than what was necessary, but he deserved to feel the agonizing burn of the liquid - and several stitches later, Timothy was left with a tender, irritated wound, but hopefully one that wouldn't get infected. Or maybe it would and his arm would fall off and he would die. He deserved it.

He flopped down on his bed and was content to sleep for forty years, but a knock at his door sometime later jolted him out of his nightmare-plagued slumber. The rapid-fire rapping left no question in his mind as to who was waiting behind the door for him. For some stupid reason, he got to his feet and opened the door.

"Heyy, buddy!" Jack crowed, grinning widely at his double as he breezed past him into the room. Mr. Blake was behind him, but wisely stayed at the door, his expression drawn and timid. Apparently he was the only one of the two capable of sensing the turbulence in the air.

Timothy said nothing as Jack turned to face him, still wearing that shit-eating grin.

"I wanted to thank you for today, kiddo," he said, almost sounding sincere. "Not only did you stop some doofus from shooting up the place, you also made me look even more like a hero! It's already all over the ECHOnet: 'Handsome Jack, CEO of Hyperion, single-handedly stops Dahl spy from murdering innocent people'! How cool is that? All because of you!"

Jack slapped his arm in what was supposed to be a gesture of thanks, but he got him right on the wound. The snap of pain that jolted through Timothy's body did more than just hurt him. The rage that had briefly been appeased by the violent murder Timothy had committed only an hour before was back, roaring to life and spreading through his veins like wildfire.

"Thanks, buddy. I knew there was a reason why I didn't shoot you out of the airlock after you pulled that dumbass stunt with the Eridium soldier freaks," Jack continued, oblivious to the fury burning in Timothy's eyes. "I wanna repay you. Money, chicks, guns - whatever you want - "

"I want you to get out."

Jack's mouth clacked shut, his expression one of genuine surprise. "What?"

"Get out," Timothy snapped again, taking a large step towards the man. His hands were clenched into shaking fists at his side and itching to start swinging, specifically in the direction of Jack's masked face. "Get. Out."

The CEO actually flinched at the sudden movement and took a few retreating steps of his own. "Uh, I'm sorry, my ears must still be ringing from all the gunshots. You...want me to leave? _That’s_ all you want?"

Timothy was half a second away from grabbing the son of a bastard by his neck and bashing his head through the wall when Blake suddenly cleared his throat.

"Sir," he said, wide eyes on his boss. "One of Opportunity's architects has requested to speak to you. There's an issue with one of the blueprints."

Handsome Jack turned to face his vice president, his startled expression already shifting into one of pure annoyance. "Seriously? I thought we had all this shit figured out!" He stormed out of the room, still barking orders. "Get that idiot on the line, Blake! If I have to go all the way down there just to tell them to screw the rules, I'm gonna be hella pissed off!"

"Yes, sir," Blake muttered, quickly following the man.

Timothy was left staring at empty space. His hands still trembled at his side, begging him to unleash some of his fury. Sensibility told him to grab his gun and head to the closest shooting range, but the last thing he wanted to do was unleash hell on something or someone that didn't deserve it.

His feet began moving without his permission. He blacked out for a while, blinded by his rage as he stormed around Helios, and by the time he came back to himself and took a glance around at his location, he had no goddamned clue where he was.

"Great," he muttered. God forbid Hyperion stick a "You Are Here" map anywhere on this floating hellhole.

He continued to slink about, observing the dark, metal-plated hallways, until he came upon a lone imposing door off to his left. He gravitated to it, hoping that it would get him back to the surface or at least back into familiar territory. He expected a simple elevator, so he was a little put off when the Hyperion Voice Lady demanded that he put his hand flat on the touchpad by the door for identification. He did so, more annoyed than anything, and gladly stepped through the door when they slid open with an audible hiss of turning gears.

It wasn't an elevator, he noted quite suddenly, deflating. Just another dimly-lit room in the middle of a goddamned labyrinth. Instinct told him to turn back, but a flickering light coming from with the room drew him further into the room. With baited breath, he peered around one of the machines and stopped dead in his tracks.

A young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old, was seated by herself among all the floating tech on what resembled a throne of all things. She was humming softly to herself and idly kicking her legs back and forth as images and information flew by her face so fast that Timothy got nauseous by just glancing at it. It didn't seem to bother the girl at all; in fact, she seemed to be able to actually process the images as they whizzed by. She reached up occasionally to snag a cluster of information and drag it out of the stream, tossing it over to a clean set of holo-screens that hovered off to her right.

The sight baffled him. What was a child doing down in the bowels of Helios? She couldn't possibly be an employee, could she?

"Um, hello?" he questioned. His voice echoed loudly in the empty space and startled the poor girl into swiveling around in her seat and gape at him through one wide blue eye. The other half of her pale, freckled face was covered by black hair.

Timothy threw his hands up. "Whoa, hey, sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh, sir," the girl said through a sigh, "I didn't expect you today. But since you're here..." She swiveled back around and brought up a file that displayed a rather attractive young man with shiny chevrons in his forehead.

"I gathered the information you requested on the AWOL Dahl sergeant," the girl began. Her voice was still high-pitched in her youth, yet she spoke with the same no-nonsense tone that rivaled that of Mr. Blake's. "I think he'll make an excellent candidate along with the others. What do you think, sir?"

More information screens popped up, filling the whole area in front of the girl. Timothy noted that she seemed to be bringing them up with flicks of her wrist rather than typing into a keyboard, which was weird, to say the least. Then again, in this day and age, technology was always expanding. Maybe this was just how the kids did it nowadays.

"He's...handsome?" Timothy suggested weakly. He was completely and totally clueless as to what the hell was happening, which the girl didn't fail to notice.

"Jack?" she questioned, only to recoil when she realized almost immediately after that this man wasn't who she thought he was. Her eyes narrowed.

At almost the same time, Timothy felt something snag his good arm, twisting it behind his back so violently that it was nearly ripped out of its socket. He cried out in pain and fright and tried to wiggle away, but suddenly he was being grabbed all over by mechanical parts and lifted clean off the ground. Flashes of steel and coiled metal reflected the lights from the holographic monitor screens as they coiled around him, rendering him almost completely immobile in a matter of seconds.

He screamed as his bad arm was twisted around to join the other one behind his back. The wound throbbed in protest; a warm sensation began to trickle over his skin as the wound reopened.

"Stop!" he wailed, trying and failing to thrash out of the grip of whatever mechanical monster had seized him. When he opened his eyes, he found the young girl glaring up at him.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	14. Chapter 14

Timothy gaped down at the child that had him suspended in mid-air with mechanical arms and coils and wires. The larger coils were currently bruising the hell out of his ribs, and a couple of wires around his neck were making it very hard to swallow. They undulated and twisted as if they were alive, like snakes that were in the process of crushing their victim.

"Who are you?" the girl asked again, firmer. “How did you get in here?”

The tube coiled around his bad arm constricted, making him cry out in agony. "I got lost! I'm sorry, I don't know where I am, can you not - " He choked on his own words, briefly overwhelmed by pain. "Please stop twisting my arm, it hurts!"

"That's the point," the girl stated.

The entire ball of mechanical devices began to constrict, making his bones creak in protest. He was going to die like this, Timothy realized as he sucked in a frantic breath. Crushed to death by a little girl who could control mechanical things with her brain. That was certainly one for the ECHOnet news sites.

"You can't just waltz in here," the girl was saying. "There's a palm print lock on the door. Only Handsome Jack has the bio-signature to open it. So how did you get in?"

Timothy tried to speak, but the wires around his neck made it too difficult. A pathetic wheeze escaped him as the corners of his vision began to go black.

Realization struck her just in time. "Oh!" she cried, abruptly releasing him from the death grip.

The wires unraveled, allowing him to gasp in much-needed air - at least until he tumbled three feet onto the cold ground and had all the air punched out of him as he landed hard on his back. He lay there gasping open-mouthed at the ceiling until his diaphragm decided to stop being dumb and let him breathe again.

Slowly the girl came over to him and peered down at his crippled form. "You're the first body double," the girl said, eyes wide. "The one who helped saved Elpis."

Timothy's first instinct had been to yell at the kid, but her words briefly smothered his anger. No one had ever made that association with him. He had always just been Jack's first body double - nothing more, nothing less, even to those poor sods that were now running around all over Pandora and Helios as Jack's new body doubles.

"Yeah," he answered, swallowing hard to clear his throat. He was dizzy again. "How did you know?"

"You're the only one of the doubles who has Jack's real bio-signature," she explained, holding out a pale hand to help him to his feet. "That and, well, I might have had a hand in getting you hired."

That made him hesitate. "Oh," he muttered, accepting the hand up. He wanted to tack on a dry, "Thanks for that," but the girl already looked regretful, so it let it go. Instead he asked, "What're you doing down here by yourself?"

"Working," was her blunt reply. "I'm very busy. You should probably leave."

Timothy frowned. "Since when does Hyperion employ the use of child labor?"

Her cheeks puffed out in a pout. "I'm not a kid! I'm a teenager," she proclaimed proudly. The brief moment of childish pride quickly faded as her business-like facade snapped back into place. "I'm not allowed to have visitors. You need to leave before Handsome Jack arrives."

As curious as he was about why she wasn't allowed to have people visit, Timothy's fear far outweighed it and had him leaving the room in a wobbly rush. He got halfway to the door when he realized that he was still technically lost deep within Helios.

"Sorry, but, um, can you tell me how to get outta here?" he asked, turning around to send her a sheepish grin.

The girl rolled her eyes. "I'm sending you a waypoint," she said, jabbing a finger at him.

Sure enough, a split second later said waypoint popped up on Timothy's ECHO device, no coordinates needed. His eyebrows shot to the ceiling. "How did you do that?" he asked. Usually whenever someone needed him to go somewhere, they sent him coordinates, which he then had to manually toss into the GPS in order to get a waypoint.

Her mouth turned into a thin, unhappy line. "I'm just special, I guess." 

The files in front of her began to speed by again, becoming blurs of yellow and red and white. Timothy took that as his cue to leave.

The waypoint guided him through several more hallways until he finally came upon a service elevator that dumped him close to Jack's office. He didn't want to risk running into the guy, not after everything that happened today, so Timothy wasted little time in making his way back to his apartment.

Once safely behind locked doors, he checked his wound and noted that it really hadn't bled that much, but he doused it in more healing spray and slapped another bandage over it anyway. The wires and cords had left some marks, but nothing too extreme to be noticed by anyone not looking closely at him. The only person he was worried about was Jack, and these days he was far too busy to care about what his favorite toy was up to. 

It wasn't surprising to him that for the next couple of days, his thoughts kept drifting back to the little girl in the bowels of Helios. It just didn't sit right with him that someone so young was locked away like that. No visitors? _Seriously_?

It was those thoughts and feelings that brought him back to the girl's chamber about a week later. The door still accepted his bio-signature and opened for him, and when he crept into the dim room, he found the girl sitting on her throne, completely absorbed in whatever she was doing.

"Hello? Kid?" he called, trying not to startle her too badly.

She jerked in her seat and whirled around to stare at him. He was disturbed to see wires and tubes coming out of the ports in the shaved side of her head, but she didn't seem bothered by them.

"What are you doing back here?" she hissed after a brief pause to size him up. "I told you, if you get caught...!"

"I know," Timothy said, slowly making his way towards her. "I just...thought you could use some company for a little while."

She stared at him. " _What_?"

"I...okay, look, it's just not right that a kid your age is stuck in this tiny-ass room by yourself all day!" he exclaimed. "It just...doesn't seem right."

She rolled her eyes. "Are you here to rescue me, then?"

Timothy bit his lip. "No," he admitted quietly. "I can't even help myself out of this mess."

Her brow furrowed slightly as her stand-offish attitude bled out of her. She unhooked herself from whatever system she was connected to and hopped off her throne, making her way down the platform. Her bare feet made little "plap-plap" noises on the floor.

Timothy frowned. It was freezing in here; she shouldn't be walking around in a sun dress barefoot, for cripes' sake. Unless...

His eyes fell on the white tattoos spiraling up her arm. Could she be a siren? That might explain why she was locked away like this, but she was still just a child. There was no excuse for this kind of treatment.

She stopped a few feet from him and stared into his soul with her big eyes. For a moment, she looked familiar, but the feeling passed just as she began to speak. "Angel," she said. "My name is Angel."

A grin split Timothy's face in two. "That's a cute name," he said. "Cute name for a cute kid."

Angel rolled her eyes, but he saw the corner of her mouth twitch upwards. "I'm not a kid!"

"You're younger than me, therefore a kid," he said with his own snotty attitude tossed in for good measure. He smirked and stuck his tongue out at her. "Kid."

Her jaw dropped. She gave him a shove, though he barely budged against her tiny hands. "You're a jerk!"

"No, I'm Jack." His mirth faded as his dad-tier joke fell flat. "I think." He had been Jack for a while, but he didn't feel like him right now.

Angel frowned sadly up at him. "Your file said your name is Timothy," she said. "So that's what I'm going to call you."

"But Jack said - "

"Jack's not here," she said quickly, casting a glance at the door just to make sure. "If he was, you'd be dead and I'd be in deep trouble for disobeying him."

Timothy swallowed hard as he too looked towards the door, needing confirmation himself that they were indeed alone. His eyes snapped back to the young lady in front of him. "Are you his prisoner?" he asked quietly, very afraid to hear the answer.

He knew of Jack's newfound "hobbies" that included kidnapping people from Pandora and torturing them or experimenting on them for shits and giggles under the excuse that it was all for science. He doubted women and children were excluded from it. Jack was an equal opportunist sadist.

She frowned down at her bare feet. "Dad told me that I should do what he tells me to do," she said.

Well, that just didn't seem right at all. "Where _are_ your parents?"

Angel shrugged one shoulder. "Mom's been dead for a long time and Dad doesn't care about me anymore," she muttered. "Not since I became like this."

"Like this?"

She held out her tattooed arm. "Like this. I'm good at all the tech stuff. Jack says I'm useful."

None of this was sitting well with Timothy at all. A girl her age - siren powers be damned - was meant to be running around outside or playing video games or interacting with other kids. Not working for some tyrant CEO in the basement of a space station, far away from any and all social interactions. Then again, he thought, this was probably the safest place for her to be. Pandora and Elpis were far too dangerous.

"It must get lonely in here," he found himself saying as he looked around. There weren't any posters on the wall or piles of toys for her to play with. Just consoles and machines and other tech. "Pretty boring too, I'd imagine."

Angel nodded, then grinned up at him. "Sometimes I watch cartoons in between work," she blurted, bringing her hands up to stifle her giggles. "Jack would be mad if he knew, but I'm smarter than he is. I won't get caught."

He echoed her grin. "Man, I haven't seen any cartoons in ages. Have they made any good ones lately?"

"Tons!" she exclaimed. She waved her hand at the monitors, bringing up several screens depicting an array of cartoon episodes waiting to be played. "There's this one with gemstones and some kid named Steve, and one with a talking dog and a vampire lady - oh, I'll just show you all my favorites!"

Timothy took a seat on the floor next to her chair, eager to see them all. "I'm always a sucker for talking animals," he admitted.

She flicked her wrist, bringing a screen up that featured a purple dog-looking thing and a humanoid boy with a sword. "Then let's start with the Exciting Occasion."

And then suddenly an hour had passed in a colorful blur of talking dogs and gemstones. They were a far cry from the kinds of cartoons Timothy had grown up with, but nonetheless enjoyable. He would have been content to hear more about Angel's favorite characters and watch more of her favorite scenes from the series, but the girl abruptly jumped to her feet mid-conversation, terror shining in her large eyes as the monitors flickered into standby.

"You have to go!"

"What? But I - "

She shook her head fiercely, sending her ponytail snapping back and forth. "I didn't mean to get distracted for so long," she explained. "Jack could be here at any moment!"

Reality slapped him in the back of his head, yanking him to his feet. Half of him, the part high on the sudden spike of fear, wanted to bolt for the door, but his feet remained glued to the ground. He didn't want to leave Angel here all alone again.

"I could - I could visit more often, if you like," he offered blindly, almost desperately. She seemed to realize that they were more or less in the same boat, and very, very lonely. "We could talk about cartoons some more."

"Jack visits me pretty often, but never on the same day at the same time," she reminded him sadly. "I don't want to risk you getting caught."

Timothy nodded with great reluctance. She was right and he knew it, but it didn't mean he had to like it. "I guess it was nice talking to you, then," he offered as a final goodbye.

Angel's expression was twisting unpleasantly. "Your file says you have an ECHO port," she said.

He flinched and reached up to touch the offending tech through the material of his mask. "Yeah, don't remind me," he grumbled. He hadn't used it for much since Blake compiled those educational files for him. That seemed like forever ago.

"I could, um, with your permission, hack it," she said hesitantly. Suddenly she appeared very much like the child she was as she gazed shyly down at the floor and fidgeted with the end of her little black ponytail. "That way we could stay in contact all the time."

He stared at her. "So you'd, like, be talking to me inside my head?" he asked. It sounded stupid coming out of his mouth.

"Essentially, yes."

"That's, um...kinda...weird," he said lamely. He was uncomfortable with the idea for sure; his thoughts were shitty these days and he didn't want to spread that to Angel. He told her as much.

"Oh, I wouldn't be able to read your thoughts," she clarified quickly. "That's way too intrusive. I can only do what the ECHOport is designed to do: implant information. In this case, my presence. I would only be able to hear you if you spoke out loud, and I won't be able to see you unless I hack into the closest security camera." She made a face. "It's...hard to explain how the process works, exactly."

"No, I get it." Timothy bit his lip and quickly weighed the pros and cons of having a teenager talking to him in his brain every now and then. He couldn't see much of a down side. It wasn't like he was getting laid on a daily basis or smashed out of his mind or whatever. The worst she'd witness was his occasional hysterical crying sessions. 

Maybe with her there in her mind, he'd be less inclined to have those breakdowns, he mused. He'd have someone to talk to, someone who understood the kind of terror and trauma Jack could slam someone with.

"Would it hurt?" he found himself asking quietly. Suddenly _he_ was the child and she the adult.

Angel offered him a gentle smile. "No. I just did it. It might feel strange hearing my voice in your head, but just think of it as having an ECHO ear piece in. It's really no different."

Timothy poked his noggin, half expecting it to explode. "And nobody else will know?" God, if Jack somehow found out...

 _Nope_ , came Angel's voice from inside his head. Timothy jumped and sent her a startled look, but she merely flashed him a toothy grin. _You'd better get a move on now_ , she said without moving her lips.

"Y-yeah, okay," he stuttered, taking a step back towards the door. "I'll, uh, talk to you later?"

 _We can keep talking now_ , Angel said as she turned her attention back to her holograms.

"I won't distract you?"

 _I'm very good at multitasking_ , she said. _Get moving, mister._

He did as he was told and quickly made his way back to the surface using the same route she had given him the first time. His hands were shaking slightly as he stepped out of the service elevator, but his spirits were high - probably higher than they'd been since he first set foot on this stupid space station. The feeling was bound to fade, especially with Handsome Jack lurking around, but Timothy was determined not to let this arrangement fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thank-you to everyone who's left a review! Your kind words motivate me to keep posting chapters. ;w; Thank you guys so much.

Angel kept in contact with him more frequently than Timothy had initially thought she would. The first few days had her dropping in every now and then, mostly just to ask how he was doing. It took a little while to get used to her presence in his brain, but as weeks trickled by, he began to expect it. A month and a half later, chatting to the little girl in his head was part of his normal daily routine.

As weeks turned into months, Angel's interactions got bolder. Sometimes she would send him a quick,  _Listen to this song!_ and play some upbeat tune over the loudspeakers in his area. If he was lucky, he was in his room when it happened. Usually, though, he'd be in the middle of an important meeting when he got the split-second warning in his brain and then hear the crackling of the loudspeakers coming to life. Of course he would try to stay in character and yell at poor some intern, blaming them for ruining his super awesome meeting with their shitty music, but nine times out of ten he left the meeting whistling the song's tune. Jack probably would have smacked him for breaking character, but Timothy couldn't help it. Angel was drawing him back to his true self more and more each day. Timothy wondered if she knew that.

There was no denying that it was weird having someone essentially in his head. It was downright unnerving at times. But goddamn, did it feel good to have someone to talk to about stupid, mundane things like cartoons or the weather or, hell, what he ate for breakfast that morning. It sure beat talking business with Mr. Blake or having to put up with Jack's presence every goddamn day. Angel was a welcome reprieve from all of the things that had nearly driven Timothy mad.

 _Do you have any sisters?_ she asked him one day. He was in the middle of eating breakfast within the safety of his own apartment, still half asleep, when he voice jerked him awake. That was the only real downside to this arrangement; there was no crackle of electricity or static like there was with standard ECHO devices when there was an incoming call.

"Five of them," he answered. His eyes darted to the door on instinct, making sure sure that it was secure before he continued any conversation. "Why?"

It took Angel a moment to reply. When she did, she sounded embarrassed. _So you're familiar with the annoying, painful phenomena that is menstruation?_

Timothy choked on his waffle. He thumped his fist on his chest to dislodge the damn thing as he coughed out words. "Oh - oh god, don't tell me you've...?"

 _It just started._ She sounded stressed and, worst of all, frightened, though it was clear she was still trying to keep a level head. _I've read up on everything about it. That's not the issue. I, um...don't have the stuff needed to treat it._

Timothy relaxed slightly. Tampons and pads he could handle. It was the whole explanation part that made him nervous. His mother had been the one to sit his sisters down and gently explain why the next forty or so years of their lives were going to be plagued with agony once a month. He didn't feel qualified to talk about something he couldn't experience for himself - though, from dealing with his sisters, he was pretty sure he could answer a question or two if need be.

"I'll grab you some supplies," he offered, setting his breakfast aside. Experience had taught him that this kind of thing shouldn't be put off.

 _I'm sorry to interrupt. I just...don't know what to do._ She sounded near tears now.

"Don't worry, I'm on it."

It hit him halfway down the hall that there was no way he was going to be able to explain why Handsome Jack was buying pads at the local convenience store. Thinking fast, he made a detour to where Joanne the secretary was typing away at her desk.

"Morning, Joanne," he greeted. The poor woman jumped, startled by the sound of his voice, until she turned to him and saw the very un-Jack like smile on his face. She was one of the few people who still warranted catching a glimpse of the double's true nature.

"Oh, sir," she said through a sigh. "Good morning. Do you need something?"

"Yeah, actually." He leaned against her desk and waited for a few interns to scurry by, all wide-eyed and gaping at him. "I have a lady friend who needs some feminine hygiene products," he quietly said. "Do you think you can help me? I can't exactly get it myself without the media freaking out."

The older woman's face lit up with a rare smile. "Of course," she said, sounding relieved that he was asking such a simple favor from her. She fumbled for her purse and brought out two Hyperion-issued pads wrapped in yellow paper. "Will these do for now? Handsome Jack's been running me ragged these days, so I can't leave my desk until the end of my shift. I can bring in an entire package for you tomorrow."

"That'd be great," he said, snatching the items out of her hand and stuffing them into the inside pocket of his vest. "You're a lifesaver. I'll pay you back."

"No need, sir."

Timothy offered her a parting smile before he headed towards the service elevator. He made a pit-stop along the way, snagging a few items that wouldn't raise any curious brows, before descending into Angel's lair. He popped through the doorway and rustled the plastic bag in his hands, announcing his arrival.

"Angel?" he called in a loud whisper, creeping closer.

"In here, Timothy."

Her sad, quiet voice spurned him to move quickly into the chamber. She was perched on her throne as usual, but instead of scrolling through endless streams of information, the poor girl was curled up into a ball, her head tilted back against the top of her chair. As he drew closer, he noted that her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth was set in a thin, pained line.

"Brought you some stuff," he sang quietly, setting the back down at the foot of her chair. "But first, here." He drew the pads out of his pocket and held them out to her. "I'll drop off a full package of these tomorrow. Try to make these last until then, okay?"

She hummed in affirmation and took them out of his hand. Her brow was furrowed in a permanent grimace as she hobbled towards what he assumed was the bathroom.

While she tended to herself, he sorted through the bag, pulling out the pain pills and the hot pad. There was an outlet at the base of her chair that he plugged the hot pad into. He cranked the dial up to seven and was pleased at how quickly the thing heated up. Time was of the essence in this case; he wanted to catch the cramps before they got worse.

Angel came out of the bathroom looking paler than usual and grossed out, but the sight of the hot pad made her smile. She plopped back down in her seat and drew the pad across her tummy, sighing slightly as the heat went to work easing her tense muscles.

"These are for the pain," Timothy said, jiggling the bottle of pills. "Don't take more than two in six hours, okay? I know it hurts, but it'll pass soon, I promise."

His kind words made her lower lip tremble, but she sniffed hard and swallowed down her emotions along with two of the pills. Her eyes fell on the steaming styrofoam cup by his knee. "What's that? Coffee?"

"Chamomile tea," he said, carefully handing it to her. "It's supposed to help soothe the cramps and relax you. My sisters swore by it, so maybe it'll help you, too."

"You're the best," Angel murmured as she accepted the cup.

"I know," he replied easily, earning a smirk from the girl. "Is Jack going to wonder where you got this stuff from?"

Angel snorted, mirth fading. "He won't care," she muttered. "If it doesn't have anything to do with the stuff he's assigned me, it doesn't matter to him. But just in case, I'll hide it in the bathroom and make up a lie about how I manipulated a conveyor belt or something. Don't worry."

He was always going to worry about her, Timothy wagered, but for now, he could rest a little bit easier knowing that she had the stuff to take care of herself.

"Thanks for this," she added softly. "And thanks for not being weird about it."

"Thank my sisters. I'd be just as clueless as the next dude-bro if I hadn't had to deal with all five of them going through this every month, usually at the same time."

Angel cracked a half-smile at him before the grimace returned full-force. She curled up even tighter. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up," she hissed through gritted teeth.

"Want me to get a trash can?"

She made a groaning noise that was half embarrassment and half affirmation. He squeezed her shoulder and snagged the smaller trash bin from the bathroom for her. He set it down next to her chair and backed off, wanting to give the poor girl some space. She must have thought he was leaving because her head snapped up.

"Don't go!" she exclaimed, reaching out for him. Her eyes filled with tears so fast that it took her by surprise, but she didn't retract her statement. "Don't leave me alone, please."

Timothy hurried to her side and squeezed her outstretched hand. "I won't," he assured her. "Not until you want me to."

"I don't want you to," she muttered almost angrily under her breath. "I wanna lie down."

She apparently didn't have a legitimate bed to sleep in - something that disturbed Timothy greatly - so he helped her to lie flat on the floor next to her chair. She wound up curled on her side, crying softly as the movement made her insides hurt even worse.

Timothy stroked her hair and rubbed her back, recalling all the tricks that he had learned from his sisters. He mentioned the pressure points at the base of her spine by her hips, but a few unsuccessful squeezes and pokes later left her even more miserable. He went back to rubbing her shoulders until finally the goddamned pain pills kicked in, seeping the tension out of her far faster than his hands could.

"What's it like out there?" she asked eventually, voice muffled by his leg.

"Out where?"

"You know, on Pandora. Elpis. Anywhere but this darn room in this floating prison."

Timothy hummed. "Well, I've only been to Pandora a few times," he told her. "Just to Opportunity with Jack. But from what I've seen, it's this dusty, terrible wasteland filled with all sorts of death and destruction."

Angel made a disgruntled noise. "What about Elpis?"

"Just as terrible, only hotter and colder and more barren."

"Oh."

Timothy winced at the disappointed tone in her voice and hurried to remedy it. "You know what planet is actually halfway decent? Eden. I grew up there. It's not as big as Pandora - actually it's probably smaller than Elpis, now that I think about it. It's a farming planet, so there's not much in the way of entertainment for tourists. But it's super pretty. The skies are blue most days, and when the sun sets, it changes to shades of purple and red and orange. There're these rolling green hills towards the south, and beyond them there's this huge ocean that's full of amazing creatures. We're not done discovering all of them yet because the ocean's so deep." He leaned back, grinning up at the ceiling. "And the best part is that, compared to the border planets, there's practically no crime. Eden's a damn paradise."

And he hadn't appreciated any of it.

"It sounds lovely," Angel said, sounding truly amazed. Then again, maybe it was just the pills talking. "Are there flowers? What other kinds of wildlife live there? What's the weather like? The people? What - "

Timothy chuckled. "Slow down, Angel! I can only talk about one thing at a time."

"Sorry. It's just very intriguing."

She sounded downtrodden now, like she feared she was being annoying or a burden. Timothy knew what that felt like and it hurt him to think that a young girl was suffering like this on top of the current physical pain.

"You've really been here your whole life?" he asked quietly, brushing his fingers through her ponytail.

He could feel her nod. "As long as I can remember."

"Well, buckle in, kid," he said, cracking his knuckles. "I've got nothing to do for the rest of the day."

She giggled and snuggled up closer to him.

It felt good to just reminisce about his home, even if it did start making his chest hurt the more spoke about it. A part of him was so sure that he would never see Eden again. It wasn't an illogical assumption. He'd probably die within the year if he kept working for Handsome Jack.

But there was a small spark in the back of his brain that suggested otherwise. That tiny spark became a full-fledged fire when he looked down at Angel and realized, no, there was still another option.

"I'll take you there someday," he promised suddenly, putting into words what that fire was making him feel. "We'll get out of here together."

Angel had long fallen asleep in his lap, but he didn't mind. He hadn't experienced this kind of peace in so long; he didn't want to disturb it. Still, as content as he was, he knew that Handsome Jack was somewhere on Helios. He could come in at any moment and ruin everything, as he so often did.

Angel sniffed in her sleep, but didn't stir even as Timothy lifted her into his arms and put her back in her chair. He made it recline as best as possible and snagged a towel out of the bathroom to place over her as a replacement blanket. It was the best he could offer her.

For now, his brain tacked on as he left the room. He might not have been able to save himself, but he would do his damnedest to get Angel out of Jack's clutches, he swore. Even if it killed him.

~

Lawrence lifted his eyes to scan the meeting room of the Crimson Raiders HQ. No one was looking back at him. They had their gazes firmly downcast, and most of them wore tight, pained expressions.

"Angel’s dead now, isn't she?" he asked.

That warranted a response. Several wide eyes finally met his gaze. Most of them snapped away again, narrowing with guilt. It was answer enough for Lawrence.

"I thought so," he muttered. There was a monster inside him, clawing at his chest to get out, and all he could do was sit there slowly wringing his hands as it chipped away at him. "How did it happen? Was it Jack?"

"No. Jack needed her," Lilith said quietly, glowering down at the table in front of her. "He was trying to jump-start a vault key with her."

"Then how?"

The other hunters all exchanged worried looks with one another before Axton dared to answer. "We killed her."

Lawrence hadn't expected that answer. He stared at these people for a long, cold minute, almost not believing what he'd just heard. They stared back at him, their gazes guilty but still holding fast with his. Did they not regret it?

"Why?" The word fell from his mouth like a stone, wet and vibrating with emotion. "She was just a child. All she wanted was a friend...!"

"She asked us to," Axton told him. "She was Jack's slave her entire life. She didn't want to live like that anymore."

"Didn't want to help her scumbag dad, either," Gaige added, trying to sound positive even though her voice was shaking. "I think she wanted to redeem herself for all the times she had."

The room nodded collectively, but Lawrence didn't care. He couldn't stand to look at them anymore, to be in the same vicinity, but there was nowhere for him to go other than the balcony. He jerked to his feet so quickly that his chair went falling backwards with a loud bang. Half the room was instantly on edge, no doubt fearing a physical retaliation from him. Honestly, Lawrence wished he had the guts to try.

"Can we take a break?" he asked instead.

He was moving to the balcony before Lilith had even nodded her head. He barely made it out there before his knees gave out, sending him crashing to the hard concrete floor. His body jolted upon impact, but he didn't feel it.

The monster behind his ribs broke free when he realized that he never got to say goodbye to Angel. A strangled sob escaped him, then another, and another, along with a torrent of tears and snot that he didn't bother to wipe away. He curled his knees up to his chest and hugged them to his body as he wept into them.

Eventually someone came outside to dig him out of his messy, putrid thoughts. He expected Athena, maybe even Axton or Gaige, so he was honestly surprised to see Lilith leaning against the threshold looking down at him.

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said, sounding genuine enough.

He sniffed and nodded in thanks. "And I'm sorry for yours," he said shakily in reply. "Roland...he's gone now too, isn't he?"

Lilith nodded, her red lips thinning into a grim line. "Jack killed him right after Angel died. Her death threw him into a rage - though I'm sure that was because he'd lost his catalyst, not his daughter."

"Angel stopped being his daughter when he plugged her into that machine and locked her away from people," Lawrence agreed bitterly. He met the siren's gaze and said, almost desperately, "She didn't deserve any of that. She was a good kid."

"You don't need to convince me," Lilith told him. "Kid definitely got the short end of the stick when it came to having a decent parent. Those are few and far between these days. I guess we should be grateful she didn't inherit any of Jack's awful personality traits. There’s no way we could have won against him if she hadn’t helped us."

Lawrence hummed in agreement and scrubbed at his eyes as a fresh wave of tears hit him. "He made her life so miserable. I wish I could have done something..."

"You made each other's lives less shitty up on that space station, if only for a short while." She shrugged. "That sounds like something."

"I guess so." Lawrence released a heavy, exhausted sigh and let his head rest on his arms that were folded across his knees.

"We buried her. After."

Lawrence picked his head up and blinked at her, spilling more tears down his scarred cheeks. "You did?" he asked hoarsely.

"Burned her body, spread her ashes over Pandora." Lilith shrugged, pale face showing the slightest bit of color.

That certainly helped him feel a little better. "Well...thank you," he said, cracking a small smile in gratitude. "She...she always wanted to see the world without having to look through a surveillance camera. I think she'd appreciate the gesture. Thank you, Lilith."

Lilith's face was beet red now, but she kept her composure and offered him a nod of acknowledgement. "We sirens have to stick together," she said simply as she moved back inside.

Lawrence dragged the back of his hand across his face, scrubbing away his tears, before he shakily got to his feet and followed after her. He had a story to finish telling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	16. Chapter 16

Timothy wagered he might have liked Pandora more if he was allowed to visit somewhere other than Opportunity. The city was a goddamned eyesore as far as he was concerned, and the place wasn't even halfway done being built yet, even with Jack running the construction workers and engineers ragged. He eyed a group of the poor bastards as they hustled past them, no doubt coming back from their five minute lunch break. His job sucked, but at least he could take days off.

"Well?" Handsome Jack asked, his snappish voice slicing through Timothy's thoughts. The tyrant stood before him, hands on his hips and a sneer on his fake face. "What do you think, kiddo?"

Timothy brought his gaze back to the city before him. "It's cool," he answered through another yawn. "Good job, boss."

Jack's expression collapsed into one of pure irritation. "I'm sorry, is this - are you _bored_? A lot of time and money went into making this place," he growled. " _My_ time and money. This is the stepping stone for the future of Pandora, cupcake, and all you gotta say about it is that it's 'cool'?"

"What do you want me to say? You dragged my ass out of bed three hours before my alarm went off to stare at a half-finished city when you could'a just called me into your office to look at a picture."

"I want you to shower me with praise, you jackass! God, you're so whiny in the morning."

Timothy cracked a grin. "Just embodying you as best I can, sir."

Suddenly Jack's hands were at his throat, hot and firm, but not quite cutting off his air. All of his sleep-deprived mirth vanished, leaving him gaping wide-eyed up at his boss as he loomed over him. There was a look in the man's eyes - the one he flashed whenever he hadn’t killed anyone with his bare hands in a while.

"I like to think I've been pretty lenient with you, kiddo," he hissed, spitting words like an angry cat. "You're my favorite, so I like to give you ample warning before I unleash hell on you. But lately you've been really, really pissin' me off with your attitude. You're supposed to be me, not some spoiled brat version of me."

Timothy was wide awake now. "Y-yes, sir," he choked out, squeezing the man's wrists in a silent request to let go. "I'm s-sorry, sir."

Jack's demeanor melted into one that someone would show their favorite pet. "Are you gonna be a good boy and behave?" he cooed, moving his hands away from Timothy's throat to stroke his masked face.

"Yes, sir," Timothy muttered, keeping still as Jack continued to molest his face.

"Good. ‘Cos I’d hate to have to put you back in that little room with just a bucket of water for company."

Timothy couldn’t suppress a flinch. “N-no sir, there’s no need for that,” he babbled, leaning into Jack’s palm. “I’ll be good.”

“Glad to hear it.” Handsome Jack straightened up as someone in the distance caught his eye. In a split second, his attitude did a complete turn-around as he started off down the street. "Yo, Sanders, c'mere! We gotta have a little chat, my man."

While his boss stormed off to wreak havoc on some poor dude, Timothy stumbled away to wander the streets of Opportunity. Everything that had been constructed thus far was shiny and chrome and dripping with Hyperion yellow highlights. Honestly, Timothy was surprised the grass and foliage had stayed green instead of being painted gold.

 _God_ , he hated yellow. It had gotten to the point where any other color caught and held his hungry gaze, which was why he suddenly found himself staring at a small cluster of orange flowers in a planter by a bench. He wondered if they were natural Pandoran-grown foliage or if Hyperion had grown them in R&D and brought them down here.

He found himself not really giving a shit as he plucked one and tucked it into one of the many interior pockets of his jacket.

As soon as the chance arose for him to beat cheeks back to Helios, he took it, not bothering to say goodbye to Jack as he blasted off. As soon as he was back on the floating prison, he made a beeline to Angel's room. He found the girl in her usual spot: on her throne immersed in the digital data world. He cleared his throat, announcing his arrival and drawing her back into her body.

"Hi, Timothy," Angel greeted, turning her head to flash him a smile.

"Hey," he replied easily, smiling. "I brought you something."

She perked up, looking both surprised and eager. "You did? Something for me to decode or...?"

"Nope." He held out the tiny orange flower. The stem had gotten a little bent in transit and a few petals had since fallen off, but Angel didn't seem to notice as she squealed and snatched it up. She grinned as she brought it to her nose and sniffed it.

"Thank you," she said eventually, turning her smile on him. "It's beautiful. Did you get it from R&D?"

"Pandora," he told her, relishing the way the young girl's eyes lit up even more. "Jack dragged me down there this morning to give me a tour of his ugly new city or whatever, and I saw a bunch of them growing in a planter. Figured he wouldn't notice if I took one back with me."

Angel made another pleased squealing noise and kicked her legs back and forth. "There's a cup in the bathroom! Grab it and fill it with water for me, please?"

Timothy did as she asked. Angel didn't leave her chair much these days, which bothered him, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Jack was running her ragged; if it wasn't for the fact he was still down on Pandora right now, Timothy probably wouldn't have risked visiting her.

"Perfect," she said when he handed the cup back to her. She grinned down at it, then turned back to him and flung herself into his arms. "Thank you! No one's ever done such a nice thing for me before. You're the best."

Timothy returned her hug, practically melting into it. When was the last time he had been touched without the threat of pain or worse? He wondered the same for Angel.

"You've been so kind to me, Timothy,” she said as she pulled back. “I wish there was something I could do for you in return."

"Nah, don't worry about it," he told her. "Making other people happy makes me happy."

"Still." Her frown abruptly vanished. "Oh! I know!"

She carefully set the flower off to the side where it wouldn't get knocked over and swiveled her chair back around to face her holographic consoles and keyboards. Her expression mellowed out as she merged her consciousness back into the ECHOnet.

"Give me just one more second," she mumbled, typing so quickly that her pale fingers were blurs. "Aha! Got it. Close your eyes."

He hesitantly obeyed. "Angel, really, it's fine..."

"Oh, hush." There was another short moment of silence before she said, "Executing Phaseshift. Okay, you can look."

He inhaled as he opened his eyes. All the air in his lungs came rushing out of him when he found himself standing on the streets of his little hometown on Eden. It was springtime, and there were people walking down the sidewalks rejoicing in the warmer weather after what was probably a typical harsh winter. The mom-and-pop shops that lined the main road were open and frothing with customers.

"H-how?" he choked out, turning around to see that he was alone on the sidewalk. "Angel?"

"I'm here," she said, her voice echoing eerily. "Do you like it? It's only a simulation compiled from live video feeds, but I thought you might enjoy it."

Poor girl sounded so nervous. Timothy cracked a grin and let out a chuckle. "Angel, it's amazing," he breathed, turning around some more. "This - this is so...it's like I'm really home. Thank you."

"Of course," she said warmly. "I can keep this running for a while. Enjoy."

He nodded dumbly and unconsciously wiped at the tears drying on his cheeks. He made his way over to one of his favorite spots just off the main road; a little worn bench sat underneath a towering oak tree - the biggest one in town. He often went there to write or read his newest purchase from the local comic book store.

He sat there for maybe an hour, not realizing that he had dozed off until he came to on the floor of Angel's room on Helios. The girl was sat cross-legged above his head, hunched over him.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I got tired."

"S'okay," he told her, reaching up to squeeze her toes. "Apparently so did I."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Timothy dozed lightly, lured in and out of consciousness by Angel's fingers carding through his hair.

"Is it bad that I was hoping I might see them?" he found himself asking through a yawn.

Angel's hands stilled. "Who?"

"My mother and sisters. I know it was just a simulation, but..." he sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's stupid."

"Missing your family isn't stupid, Timothy."

"Do you miss yours?"

Angel said nothing for a long time. When she finally did speak, her voice was low. "My father...he used to be kind. I have memories of him singing me to sleep as a little girl, of him smiling at me and playing with me after he came home from work even though he was exhausted. You know, typical dad stuff. But then..." She looked at her arm that sported the graceful swirls, the mark of a siren. "When my powers started to develop, he changed. He realized he could benefit from me. Then Jack happened, and Dad...disappeared."

Timothy squeezed her toes in a silent motion of comfort. She tried to smile at him, but her mouth refused to cooperate as she continued.

"Sometimes I feel like this is all my fault. If I had been born a normal baby, would my dad still love me? Would Mom still be around?"

"Don't," Timothy blurted firmly as he sat up and grabbed her hand in his. "None of this is your fault, okay? That kind of thinking will bury you alive. You never asked for this, and you need to remember that."

Angel sniffed hard as she struggled to keep her tears at bay. Her lower lip trembled fiercely as her resolve broke, and suddenly Timothy had an armful of wailing teenager.

"I wish you were my dad," she sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt clean through.

Timothy felt his heart shatter into a million pieces for this girl. "I'm afraid all I can be is your friend," he said quietly, holding her tightly in a return hug.

"I'll take it."

~

It didn't take long for shit to hit the fan shortly after that. About a week after his last visit with Angel, he got a frantic call from her through their ECHO port connection, one that told him nothing but made Timothy believe that something was terribly wrong. Excusing himself from some boring meeting that Handsome Jack himself couldn't be arsed to attend, he bolted for the bowels of Helios and made it to Angel's chambers in record time.

He remembered himself at the last second and waited a moment just in case Jack was present. When nothing but the soft sounds of Angel's weeping met his ears, he chanced moving into the room.

Angel was curled up by the floor of her throne, crying into her hands. The sight filled Timothy with several emotions, the foremost being fear.

"Angel?" he asked worriedly, quickly moving to her side. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

For a moment the poor girl looked alarmed, frightened that it was her father approaching her, but the second she recognized his stance and the legitimate concern in his expression, her shoulders slumped and the tears continued down her pale face.

"Oh, Timothy," she whimpered, lifting a shaking hand to wipe at her cheeks. "I can't see you anymore. At least, not in person."

That was _not_ what Timothy had been expecting to hear from her. "What? _Why?_ " he exclaimed, horrified.

"Jack's setting up a new base for me to be locked away in down on Pandora." Angel sniffed hard as a new round of tears escaped her. "Do you know how cruel that is? Being so close to seeing the world and unable to so much as smell the fresh air? I'll be even more alone than I am now, and you...there's no way he'd let you down there to see me. There's going to be new security measures added so only he can get in."

Timothy shook his head rapidly, floored by this sudden onslaught of information. "No," he snapped. " _No_. I'm not gonna let him do that to you."

Angel peered up at him through her tears. "What're you going to do?"

Timothy bit his lip and wracked his brain for a logical response. Unfortunately the only thing he could come up with on such short notice was entirely the opposite. "We're leaving," he finally said.

"Leaving?" Angel echoed, incredulous. "We can't just _go_."

"Why not? Aren't you tired of the abuse?"

"Of course I am," the young girl snapped, frowning. "More than you can imagine. But we can't just leave without a plan. We don't even have a way off this station. And even if we do escape to Pandora, what's stopping Jack from tracking us down? You and I are both his property. He won't let us go so easily."

Timothy flinched. "W-well, there's that resistance group in Sanctuary or whatever, right? We could try going to them, explaining our situation. I've met Lilith and Roland before and they...well, Roland seems like a pretty level-headed guy. Maybe he would be willing to listen."

"Don't you think they'd kill us? They've tried to kill you before."

The thought made him more than nervous. Still: "We know things about Jack that might be useful to them," he said. "We can help them bring him down. 'Cos I dunno about you, but I'd love to see that prick get knocked off his high horse. Preferably into a pit of lava, but I'll take whatever I can get."

Angel stared at him for a moment, gnawing on her bottom lip as she weighed the pros and cons of such a wild, probably disastrous idea. Eventually she lowered her gaze and nodded. "All right. I'm with you, Timothy."

He smiled at her and squeezed her hands. "Okay," he said, exhaling shakily. "Okay. Where's Jack? Do we have to time the escape or...?"

"No, he's gone for the day, as far as I'm aware.”

“Great! O-okay, I think I can get us clearance,” he said, backpedaling towards the door.

Maybe even their own vessel, if they were lucky. He sprinted back to Jack's blessedly empty office and slammed his fist down on the intercom on the desk. "Blake!" he snarled. "Get in here!"

"Right away, sir," came Blake's instant reply.

When the man strode through the doors and up to his desk, Timothy dropped the act as he grabbed the older man by his hands, shocking the hell out of him.

"I need your help," Timothy told him before he could say anything.

The vice president looked comically stunned. "I'm...sorry? I don't unders - "

"I need to get down to Pandora. Like, right now."

"I...certainly. Is Handsome Jack expecting you in Opportunity?"

"No. He doesn't know I'm leaving, and it's going to stay that way."

It took Blake a moment to realize what he meant. He immediately tried to dislodge Timothy's hands from his. "Timothy, you're spouting nonsense. Let go - "

"Jack has this little girl, Angel. He's keeping her prisoner in the bowels of Helios. She's just a kid, but she's got these powers that he's exploiting and - " A sob escaped Timothy without his permission. "She's just a _kid_! She's been his prisoner since she was a little girl, Blake!"

Blake stared at him, slack-jawed. "I-I don't know what you think I can do - "

"Get us out of here. Give us clearance to leave Helios on our own."

"You know I can't go against Handsome Jack's orders - "

"You owe me," Timothy hissed quickly, quietly. "I've saved your life, I've spared you Jack's awful bedside manners. You _owe_ me, Blake!"

Bringing up the party incident made the older man flinch. "Timothy, please," he whispered. "I can't do this. It will invoke Handsome Jack's wrath on all of us."

"You've manipulated shit behind his back in the past and he's never caught on. Look, he probably trusts you more than any other employee he has. Just get us onto a ship out of here. Blame me entirely. Tell him there was nothing you could do, that I held a gun to your head - _anything_ , just please, _please_ , get us out of here!"

Blake finally yanked his arms out of Timothy's grip, but he didn't turn and walk out like Timothy had feared. He brought his hands to his temples and fiercely rubbed them as he paced the length of the desk behind them.

"If it's easier, just send her away," Timothy said quietly. "Send her away and blame me for it. Please, Blake. I know you're a good man. You try to hide it, but I know you are."

That wrenched a thin, strained chuckle out of the older man. "Not as good as you might think."

Timothy fell quiet as the vice president continued to ponder. He knew that what he was asking of Blake was huge and intense and would probably wind up getting him them killed if Handsome Jack found out, but he refused to feel guilty for it - not when Blake owed him. Not when Angel was depending on him.

"All right," the older man finally rasped. He let out a heavy sigh and lowered his arms in defeat. "All right. Give me a few minutes to secure a transport ship for you and this girl."

Timothy swallowed thickly and contemplated on hugging the shit out of Blake, but kept himself in check. "Thank you," he whispered, taking a step towards the door. "You're doing the right thing, Mr. Blake."

He didn't wait around long enough to hear any response Blake might have offered to that. He bolted back to Angel's chambers, stumbling several times and puking a little in his mouth from nerves. He could hardly believe that he was actually going through with this, but he knew that if he stopped to really think about it, he would chicken out.

"Blake's helping us get out of here," he rasped, suddenly aware of the fact that he was trembling with emotion. "We're leaving, Angel."

Angel's watery eyes widened in astonishment as he snagged her by the arm and helped her to her feet. He tried to get her to follow him, but she didn't budge, probably too stunned by the fact that they were legitimately going to be free.

"Angel, come _on_ \- " he begged.

The sharp sound of someone clapping startled Timothy enough to make him yelp and fumble for his gun. He whirled around to face the entrance of the room, only to pale ten shades at the sight of Jack standing there slowly applauding the two of them. The dictator looked entirely too smug as he casually leaned against one of the machines.

"Well done, kiddos," Jack said loudly as he pushed himself off of the console and began to walk towards them. Timothy jerked backwards and thrust a protective arm out in front of Angel, which only made Jack's grin widen. "Aww, that's real cute. Almost as cute as you thinking you could ever get out of here alive, kitten."

Timothy sucked in a frantic breath as Jack continued to approach. The gun was heavy in his hands and ready to fire, but he still couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger yet. "W-we're leaving," he spat. "Get out of the way, Jack."

Jack's smarmy smirk widened. In that same moment he was gone, disappearing with a rush of digital pixels.

Timothy had maybe a second of debating whether or not to open fire in a full fledged panic attack when Jack appeared next to him and landed an uppercut to his gut, sending him to his knees with a strangled cry as all the air in his lungs was forced out of him. The gun flew from his reach and clattered across the floor before coming to a stop by one of the machines, but Jack was on him before he even had a chance to think about scrambling for it.

Several more punches and a well-aimed kick to his head left Timothy reeling and limp as his boss bent over to grab a fistful of his hair and began to drag him towards who knows where. The pain kept him teetering between consciousness and sleep as he reached up to wrap his hands around Jack's wrist, trying to keep him from ripping his scalp off.

Timothy choked as he hit the ground hard, expelling all the air in his lungs in one blast. It took him a moment to regain his breath, but it all got sucked out of him again when he realized where Jack had thrown him. He leapt to his feet just as Jack slammed and locked the door to the airlock in his office.

"Jack!" Timothy howled, hurling himself against the door. "Jack, let me out! Please!"

There was a moment of silence in which all Timothy heard was his pulse roaring in his ears. He glanced behind him at the sealed airlock door. They blood splatter from Dr. Grayson slamming his face on the edge of it before being sucked violently out into space was still there, like a big red warning sign. Timothy's stomach churned uncontrollably when he realized that his blood might be joining the scientist's very soon.

He turned back to the door in front of him and resumed betting on it and screaming for Jack, begging him to open the door and let him out.

About a minute later, the wall to the right of him opened, revealing the inside of Jack's office. The man was standing there waving at him like he was some kind of zoo exhibit, not a man begging for his life.

"Sir, please," Timothy whimpered, stumbling into the center of the airlock so that he could face his employer. "Th-think of the money you'd've wasted if you kill me like this!"

"Chump change," Jack assured him, attention shifting to the control panel in the wall. One correct code and Timothy would be sucked out into space to die a slow, agonizing death.

Absolute panic seized him as Jack began to move towards the panel. With a scream, Timothy hurled himself at the exit, clawing and slamming his fists against the metal so hard that his knuckles split and his nails tore off. Nonsensical words poured from his mouth, most of them directed at Jack, but the CEO didn't seem to hear him or care as his fingers began to type a familiar code into the control panel.

The airlock cracked open. Timothy fell onto his ass and sat there, numb, as everything around him began to get sucked away. He could feel the air thinning, feel the biting cold of space as it snaked into the room.

"Executing Phaseshift."

Timothy blinked. The room around him was pixelating. Was this death? Was he already dead?

He blinked again and found himself sitting on his ass inside the room Angel was kept in. She stood near her throne and gazed sadly down at him while Jack slapped his knee as he howled with laughter from a few feet away.

"The look on your face!" Jack finally managed to choke out in between his hysterical cackling. "You - you looked like - oh my god, you fuckin' _pissed yourself_."

Timothy barely noticed, still too much in shock to register the warm puddle beneath his ass. His stomach rebelled as reality began to trickle through the numbness, but he was thankfully able to aim away from his lap as he puked up lunch. That only made Jack laugh harder.

"Did you really think my own flesh and blood would ever pick you over me?" Jack asked breathlessly. " _God_ , you're stupid!"

"Flesh and..." Timothy's eyes widened as his heart turned to ice in his chest. "You... _you're_ her father?"

“Surprise, kiddo!” Jack exclaimed, throwing his arms out. “My Angel's been working for me this whole time! Ain't she just the best goddamned actress you've ever seen? She really had ya thinkin' you were gonna get outta here, huh? Good job, baby girl!”

“Thank you, sir,” Angel replied quietly, her watery gaze locked onto the floor at her feet.

"Ooh, and guess what else?" Jack waved at something over his shoulder, and a second later Mr. Blake appeared on Jack's other side, expression neutral even as he watched Timothy completely crumble on the ground in front of him.

"Jimmy's been working for me the whole time, too!" Jack continued, elated. "See, I told him it wouldn't hurt to warm up to you a bit, because I'm a genius and knew you might try something stupid like this at some point. It's cute that you think he'd _actually_ give a shit about you."

"I am loyal to you and Hyperion above all else, sir," Blake said without missing a beat. Angel had the heart to look upset over what she'd been forced to do, but Blake appeared completely unrepentant.

Timothy gaped up at them, stunned almost to the point of being almost unable to speak. “Guys,” he whimpered, “please don't – ”

Without warning, Jack kicked him in the face, sending his head snapping to the side and the rest of his body tumbling after. Blood and saliva filled his mouth and spilled from his lips alongside what looked like one of his premolars. Timothy stared down at the lump of bone as more blood dripped from his gaping, cut up mouth.

Tsking, Jack leaned down and snagged Timothy by the jaw, observing the trickle of blood making its way down his chin. "Aw, did you lose a tooth, kiddo? Well, that's okay. You're not gonna need teeth after I'm through with you."

Timothy froze and peered up at Jack as his blood ran cold. "What?" he asked, wondering what could be worse than being a prisoner up here.

He lashed out faster than Timothy anticipated the older man could. Timothy recoiled, expecting another punch, only to choke as something heavy and round latched around his neck and clicked shut. Almost immediately he felt the sting of what felt like cold, thick needles piercing the front, back, and sides of his neck, and a second later a terrible burning sensation began to sear through him. The burning quickly grew worse, until Timothy couldn't contain his shrieks of pain and collapsed onto the cold floor, clawing uselessly at the device.

“Hurts, huh?” Jack asked quietly as he peered down at him. “I've been doing some experimenting with Eridium. The plasma form of it works wonders on Angel, and slag does some pretty freaky shit to people and wildlife alike. You remember your lovely friends the Lost Legion, right? How mutated and focused on their stupid mission they got after being exposed to the pure form of Eridium on Elpis?”

Timothy choked as the needle in the back of his neck dug even deeper, until it finally began to scrape against what must have been his spine. The pain was unbelievable; he could hardly hear Jack over the sound of his own choked cries and the roaring in his ears.

“Looking back now, I _really_ wish you hadn't helped those freaks escape, 'cos lemme tell you, as annoying as those assholes were, they got some pretty awesome powers from suckin' up all that juice.”

Jack placed his boot against Timothy's neck, pushing the collar deeper into his flesh. Another strangled yelp clawed its way out from between Timothy’s clenched, bloody teeth.

“I want to obtain that kind of power,” the tyrant said viciously as he began to slowly pace around his twitching double. “Being the genius that I am, I made that little device around your neck to fabricate the kind of mutation process the Lost Legion went through, but at twice the speed. I'll spare you the details. Since Nanajama doesn't seem to be getting anywhere with that AI of me and you seem to be getting a little out of control these days, I figured I could use you to test this baby out on."

Jack stopped pacing and crouched down next to Timothy. "How's all that Eridium feel pumping through your body, kiddo?" he growled. "You feelin' good? Feelin', oh, I don't know, focused on obeying me in every single way?”

“Please,” Timothy whimpered, only to let out one final scream as the needle finally pierced his spinal cord. His body seized violently as the liquefied mineral began to stream through him, from the tips of his toes to his brain. It hurt worse than anything Timothy had ever felt in his life, but he could only lie there on the floor, twitching as he burned away from the inside out.

“You listenin', pumpkin?”

“Yes, sir,” Timothy answered without delay. He didn't want to respond, but his body wasn't listening to him anymore. He couldn't even lift a finger now unless Jack told him he could.

Jack smirked and wiggled one of his sneakers by Timothy's head. “Let's do a little test run,” he said. “My shoes have gotten awfully dirty from running around on Pandora all day. Do me a favor and lick 'em clean.”

 _No_ , Timothy wanted to scream. Instead, with a little bit of difficulty, his battered body managed to turn itself onto its stomach and inch closer to the tyrant. His bloody tongue darted out of his mouth to lick wet lines across the toe of Jack's sneaker.

“Good boy,” Jack cooed, leaning down to stroke the top of Timothy's head like he was a goddamned dog. “From now on, you respond to me. Only to me.” He paused. “And Nisha. Are we clear, kiddo?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, good boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	17. Chapter 17

Lawrence took a shuddering breath. “That's the last clear thing I remember,” he concluded his story quietly. “I think a lot of the time I was just, like, in standby mode or something until he needed me. Eventually he sent me to live with Nisha down here and, well,” he shrugged, “you know the rest.”

He, on the other hand, did not. There were huge, empty gaps in his memory whenever he tried to think back to the time he spent in Lynchwood. He caught flashes of colors, sometimes voices that he almost recognized, but other than that, he was in the dark. He felt as though it should bother him, but it didn’t. He didn’t want to remember. It was bad enough he remembered working for Jack at all.

When Lawrence lifted his eyes, most of the room's occupants were off in their own little world, visibly disturbed by the amount of gruesome information they had received in the past four hours. Even Lilith sat glowering down at the table in front of her, her nose wrinkled with disgust.

"Well, consider _me_ traumatized!" Gaige exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. "And I only heard about it."

"You and me both," Axton muttered, snorting. He met Lawrence's gaze. "We've been givin' you water to drink, but somethin' tells me we should'a been givin' you booze."

Lawrence chuckled quietly. It probably would have tasted as rank as the water, he mused, mirth quickly fading. "So what now?" he chanced asking, shifting his gaze to the leader of the Crimson Raiders.

Lilith shook her head and rose to her feet. "Now we all go to sleep and dream about punching that dirtbag in his stupid fugly face," she said.

That was so very, very far from the answer Lawrence thought she was going to give; it left him more than just a little confused. "You're not going to kill me?" he asked.

"Not unless you give me a reason to."

Lawrence felt his pulse began to quicken with an emotion he couldn't identify. Relief? Fear? Disappointment? Everything was starting to get muddled.

"Wh-why not?" he choked out. Beside him, Athena sent him a sharp look, apparently hearing something in his quivering tone that didn't sit well with her.

Lilith was also detecting something concerning, if her furrowed brow was any indication. "Because there's a war coming," she told him. "I don't know much about it yet, but I've been told that we're gonna need all the vault hunters we can get."

Lawrence shook his head. "I'm not a vault hunter anymore."

"But you know how to handle a gun with more finesse and skill than a good percentage of the people on this planet. If you want to stay in Sanctuary, you’ll help us out."

"And if I don't want to stay here?" Lawrence fired back before his brain could tell his mouth to stay quiet. "If I'd rather test my luck on this shitty planet than participate in another round of senseless violence and death? 'Cos I've had my fill of that to last a lifetime, thanks. I'm done."

The siren frowned and folded her arms across her chest. Abruptly Lawrence remembered who he was dealing with and swallowed his anger for a moment, allowing room for a flicker of fear to flash across his face. That might've been the only reason why Lilith didn't lift a hand and blow his head off his shoulders.

"Look, if I could have things my way, Athena would already be dead and you'd be right behind her," she snapped. "If this war is as bad as I've been told, the whole planet could be in danger. That means you too, genius, regardless of where you are, so you might as well help us."

Lawrence felt his blood run cold for a split second, only to have it start roaring in his ears as fury replaced his fright. "Why were you going to kill Athena?" he asked quietly. "Because she helped Jack rise to power?"

"Well, yeah, duh," Lilith said, frowning. "You witnessed his madness firsthand and you did nothing to stop him. Seems like a pretty legit reason to off you guys."

Lawrence sneered and rose to his feet. "Yeah, you're right. But you know, out of everyone in this room, you had the perfect opportunity to stop him back in the vault on Elpis. You could've snapped his neck, caved his goddamned face in. None of us would've been quick enough to stop you. But no - instead, you chose to punch him in the face and give him access to knowledge that almost led to Pandora's downfall. Way to go, champ! Kudos for you."

Lilith slammed her hands down on the table, nearly causing the metal structure to buckle. As it was, she left steaming hand prints behind as her tattoos flickered orange with rage.

"You don't know anything," she snarled.

Lawrence nearly shrunk away from the siren as she fumed, but he couldn’t shut his goddamned mouth. "I know a thing or two about pride. I worked with pride incarnate exclusively for five years. And you know what? Now that I think about it, you and Jack really aren't all that different. His pride was his downfall. Yours caused him to rise to power in the first place."

"You don’t think I know that?" Lilith hissed. "I know, okay? I _know_ I screwed up and should have killed Jack in the vault! Roland’s death is on me! I _know_."

Lawrence stared the siren dead in the eyes, unmoved by her admission. "I wish Roland had been the one to confront Jack in the vault,” he said, sneering. “At least he got shit done. He was ten times the leader you could ever hope to be."

He braced himself, expecting her to unleash fiery hell on his ass. She looked half a second away from doing just that, but then she stopped, her eyes widening. Lawrence also froze, startled by the sudden lack of rage, and watched, mute, as she huffed and took a step back.

"Oh, I see," Lilith said as the vengeful glow deserted her. Now she just looked tired and vaguely irritated. "You _want_ me to murder the shit out of you."

A chilling silence fell upon the room. Athena, who had been ready to defend him from Lilith's wrath, now sent Lawrence a wide-eyed look of betrayal.

"Lawrence?" she questioned when he made no move to refute Lilith's accusation.

"I..." He chanced a quick glance at the others in the room. Gaige looked utterly crestfallen - as she should, considering how much effort she put into making him feel brand new and clean - and Axton wasn't far behind as he frowned down at his lap. Even Maya had a defeated air about her.

_But this isn't about them_ , the angry voice from before snarled inside his head. _They can be sad and angry all they like. But this isn't about them._

"None of you," he began in a small, shaking voice, "can possibly understand what I went through. I can tell you the same story a hundred times and never be able to accurately portray how broken it left me. So yes, I'm sad and desperate a-and a touch suicidal. I appreciate you guys trying to make it better for me - truly I do - but this isn't something I can just shake off in a day's time. I might never..."

His voice broke, as did the dam holding his tears back. He tried to swallow down the sobs that made his body tremble, but some managed to escape his throat even as it closed over with emotion.

Gaige suddenly had him wrapped up in her spindly arms. Her metal one dug into his ribs, but he barely noticed, too shocked by the sudden contact to do more than just stand there. "It's okay," she told him gently yet firmly. "You're okay now, Law."

_I'm not_ , his mind whimpered as the rest of his body crumbled into heaving, wet sobs. He wailed like an infant as he fell to his knees, but not once did Gaige release him from her grip, even as he wept wildly into her shoulder, soaking her shirt sleeve clean through with snot and tears.

~

The next time Lawrence opened his eyes, he realized he was lying in one of the many beds that lined the first floor of the HQ. He felt tired, so very tired, and wasted little time in drifting back off to a restless, dark sleep that consumed him for another day at least.

He had a vague recollection of people trying to wake him, of Athena and Gaige attempting to make him eat something, but his body didn't seem to want to humor them for longer than a few minutes at a time. Lawrence didn't mind. It made it easier for him to forget everything when he wasn't awake.

Then the dreams started, plaguing the dark void of his mind with nightmares and voices belonging to the ghosts of people he no longer knew. They screamed at him, they argued with each other, they turned on him and ripped him limb from limb as they cursed and spit and damned him for being this way.

_Look at you_ , raged the one side of his mind that sounded like Timothy post-op. _You're stronger than this. Get up. Show them you can do this._

_Kill yourself_ , snarled the other, the side that sounded like Jack. _You're a waste of space. A burden - as usual. They don't want you around, they don't want you here._

Eventually Lawrence's own hoarse cry woke him in the middle of the night sometime later. He swallowed another scream as he shoved and kicked at the phantom hands still clinging to his body, only to come to his senses and realize that it was merely the sheets of his bunk bed twisted around his legs and torso.

Reality slapped him hard, leaving him sitting on his bed with his hands cupped over his mouth to stifle screams that had already escaped him. His wild, wet eyes darted around the dark room, but the few of those who were passed out in the other bunks hadn't stirred during his panic, probably used to screams piercing the night. On this planet, it was no surprise.

Gasping for breath, Lawrence covered his face in his hands and was furious to note that he was crying _again_. Hot tears continued to spill down his cheeks even as he scrubbed them away with the back of his scarred hand. That was all he seemed to do nowadays: cry like a damn baby over things he couldn't change. Why was he so pathetic? Why did anyone here even bother to put up with him?

_Waste of space_ , Jack hissed - a brutal, vicious reminder.

Oh. Right.

His rapid inhales only grew worse the longer he sat in the dark thinking about how terrible everything was, but he couldn't curb his thoughts or the angry voices within his head. He felt so out of control - somehow more so than when he was being forcibly manipulated by Jack. That realization was enough to rekindle his panic attack.

Suddenly he was moving, stumbling to his feet before bolting out the door, one hand over his mouth and the other tangled in his thin shirt. The rough pavement of Sanctuary bit into his bare feet, but he didn't feel it, nor did he feel the chill of the night air clinging to his sweaty flesh. His body was on auto pilot, and he was fine with that, even as he grew closer to the edge of the floating city. The ground grew rougher, the buildings more run down, until he found himself sprinting over chunks of concrete and rebar in order to reach the end.

He was maybe ten feet from the edge when he slammed into something solid and quite invisible - hard enough to send him flying backwards onto his ass. He grunted in shock and pain as rubble dug into his rump, but his pain was swiftly replaced with fear as a tall, lithe figure clad in all black materialized in front of him. The figure wore a helmet to hide their features, but Lawrence didn't need to see their face to know that this creature was a number of things, and human wasn't one of them.

The creature tilted their head. "What a sight to see. I thought we took care of you and your Warrior."

Lawrence's brow furrowed with confusion. "I'm...sorry?"

"Ah, it's no matter," the creature continued, drawing a blue blade from their back and jabbing the pointy end at him. "I'll end you for real this time, Mister Handsome Jack."

"Whoa, wait, no!" Lawrence exclaimed, throwing his hands up, but the creature was already moving.

Sometimes Lawrence was thankful for the training he'd had before working for Jack and the time spent tromping around the moon. His reflexes kicked in and made it possible for him to roll out of the way of the creature's attack, but only just. The blade tore into the flesh on his arm, right below the scar from the bullet Jack had lodged in him. He barely felt the pain, too hopped up on adrenaline to care. He scrambled to his feet and took off for the Crimson Raiders HQ, hoping that they would defend him from this crazy person.

A hail of bullets threatened to add to the blood trickling down his arm. Lawrence screeched and ducked behind the nearest chunk of concrete, gasping for air.

"I'm not Jack!" he yelled in between rapid breaths. "Just a body double!"

"I won't be deceived," came the wispy reply from somewhere entirely too close. "Even if you speak the truth, you must be put down."

A second later Lawrence was being showered by bits of concrete as the creature sliced through the wall behind him like it was made of paper. Strangled noises escaped him as he scrambled forward on his hands and knees, driven by the primal urge to just stay the hell alive. Ironic, really, but he wasn't in a state of mind to dwell on that fact - not when he was five seconds from being slashed to pieces.

A pair of steel-toed boots appeared in his line of vision. Relief swept over him for a moment as he pawed at them and the legs sticking out of them. "Help me," he choked out. "Th-this dude's trying to kill me and I'm not who they think I am."

The man he was gripping gave a strange noise, like a rumble and a growl, prompting Lawrence to actually look at the face of his would-be savior. Most of the man's face was hidden behind a mask, but what little Lawrence could see easily managed to reflect the pure, unbridled rage the rest of his body was literally quaking with. His lone orange-tinted eye was simultaneously narrowed and wide open with fury.

"Oh," Lawrence whimpered as he withdrew his hands and scooted backwards on his knees like a peasant cowering before a king.

Jack had called men like this "psychos." Lawrence had never seen one face-to-face, thank god, and had initially thought the title rude and wrong, but he could see now why such a terrible label would stick.

"Krieg," the assassin said suddenly, nodding at the gargantuan man. Lawrence's heart turned to ice when he realized that they were in cahoots together.

The behemoth looked at the assassin, then back at the man groveling at his feet. The rasping noise he was making with each exhale grew into a terrifying noise, like a dying, angry animal.

"Shiny face will make good fricassee!” he howled, thumping his chest.

"Pardon?" Lawrence squeaked.

He only noticed the buzz saw clutched tightly in the man’s hand when he swung it downwards at him. No amount of training prepared him for this kind of situation, yet Lawrence was still somehow able to scramble away, darting between the lumbering man's legs as he used his entire upper body to bring his saw blade down onto the ground where Lawrence had been a split second before.

An outraged roar spurred Lawrence to get the hell up and _run_. He barely made it ten feet before the monster was upon him again, snagging him by the back of his shirt and slamming him backwards to the ground so hard that his brain rattled inside his head. The behemoth placed a steel-toed boot against his chest to keep him down - not that Lawrence could even think about getting up at this point.

Why was he even fighting so hard to get away? he wondered deliriously, trying and failing to gasp in air as the mutant pressed down on his chest. He had been about to fling himself off of Sanctuary. He might as well just let this guy crush him.

Lawrence felt his body relax with acceptance (or maybe that was just his brain giving up on consciousness), but just as his eyes were beginning to drift shut, he heard another unknown voice call out from somewhere:

"Freeze!"

The man's buzz ax went clattering to the ground next to them courtesy of Maya, who stood a few feet away with her hand still extended. The tattoos on her arm glowed faintly in the night air as she closed her fist.

"Lawrence is innocent, Krieg," she said firmly, striding over to them. "Let him up."

Krieg hesitantly removed his foot from Lawrence's chest. Lawrence didn't bother to sit up just yet - mostly because he doubted his brain would let him. It was still bouncing around in his skull.

The creature clad in black strolled over to them, their sword still present but hanging harmlessly at their side. "Innocent, you say?" they asked, sounding surprised. "That's not a word I would use to describe this man."

"Bad word for bad meat," Krieg grunted in agreement, scowling. Maya offered him a gentle pat on the arm that placated him slightly.

"I know," she said. "But this man isn't Jack. Sorry, I guess the ECHO we sent didn't reach you guys all the way out in the Arid Nexus."

The masked creature tilted their head. "Not Jack? I'm confused," they mused quietly. "While scarred, the face is the same. Is he not our foe?"

"It's a long story, Zero," Maya said, shrugging tiredly. "Lilith can explain everything to you tomorrow. Just leave Lawrence alone for now. You too, Krieg."

The behemoth made a noise of protest and outright snarled down at Lawrence, who recoiled in his spot in the dust, shuddering for an entirely different reason now. Two sirens in Sanctuary had been a strange thing for sure, but a mutant man and some masked, probably-inhuman assassin on top of that?

Said assassin knelt down and offered him a strange hand up along with an apology. Lawrence accepted it after a moment's hesitation, mostly due to him getting distracted by the fact the dude only had three digits.

"Told you I'm not Jack," Lawrence grunted, dragging a hand across his mouth. No blood, he noted, relieved. The last thing he needed was to lose another tooth.

By now half of the other vault hunters and a handful of Crimson Raiders had poked their heads outside to see what the ruckus was about. Most of them looked irritated to be awake at such an obscene hour. Athena was the only one who looked anywhere near concerned.

Lawrence averted his gaze from her's, suddenly ashamed. Realization of what he'd almost done crept up on him, but perhaps what scared him the most was that he knew he'd try it again if given the chance, shame be damned. God, was he broken.

"What happened?" Athena asked, approaching. She was eyeing both Krieg and Zero wearily, but ultimately her gaze returned to Lawrence. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Well, I mean, my head hurts, but other than that - "

"He ran to escape," Zero cut in, "but he did not flee from us. Something internal."

"What do you mean ‘escape’?" Athena demanded.

Lawrence flashed the creature a rather threatening look, but they ignored him and answered the gladiator with, "He is tormented. Why else would he choose such a cowardly way out?"

The pieces fell together rapidly for Athena, who almost instantly whirled on him. "Were you going to throw yourself off Sanctuary?"

"I..." Lawrence trailed off, wilting under her fierce gaze. He thought about lying, but the truth was already festering out in the open. He shut his mouth and set his gaze firmly on the ground between them, hoping it was answer enough - because like hell he'd be able to admit it without bursting into tears for the hundredth damn time in two damn days. 

"Why didn't you come find me?" she asked.

Nothing anyone said or did would ever be enough to combat the pain he was feeling, he thought suddenly, viciously. They didn't know.

_They'll never know_ , Jack agreed, further driving that thought home. _They'll never understand._

_Not if you don't let them in!_ Timothy snapped, sounding as if he was scowling at Jack's ridiculous words.

Athena tilted her head at him when he failed to respond to her. "Lawrence - "

"I can't," Lawrence blurted, only to immediately shake his head. Great, not only was he thirty seconds away from giving up on everything, he was now responding to the voices in his mind. Broken wasn't a strong enough word to describe him at that moment.

"Can't what?" Athena prompted. "Don't tell me you couldn't find me. I was three beds from you - "

"That's not - I'm sick of burdening people, okay?" He'd been a burden his whole life, and it didn't seem like that was going to be changing anytime soon.

Athena rolled her eyes so hard they probably would've disappeared into her skull if they hadn't been anchored. "For fuck's sake," she snapped, "we've been over this a hundred times, Lawrence! You are _not_ a _burden_. Friends aren’t burdens on each other. They're _supposed_ to seek each other out for comfort!”

Lawrence couldn't keep the sneer off his face. "What the hell does an ex-Atlas assassin know about friendship? The only thing you're good at is murdering your own - "

His mouth snapped shut as his blood turned cold with pure regret. He didn't have to finish his thought for Athena to know exactly what he was going to say. "Athena," he whispered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean - "

"You did," she said, folding her arms across her chest. Her usual stoic expression was in place, which only further upset Lawrence. "And you're right. Murder is all I know. I'm trying to fix that, starting with you." Her eyes flicked downwards. "I'm not good at it yet, but I'm trying. You should try, too. That's all I ask. Please."

_You don't know anything_ , Jack snarled at her, only no, it wasn’t Jack, it was Lawrence spitting those hurtful words before the gladiator. Her expression didn’t change save for a small downward tic of the corner of her mouth, but it was enough. He had done enough.

Rage replaced the embarrassment and shame Lawrence felt as he returned to HQ. He ignored the stares from everyone else, ignored the pitying looks from Gaige and Axton, and retreated to a dark corner in the basement workshop, knowing that he wouldn't be getting any more sleep for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	18. Chapter 18

Lawrence’s thoughts were out of control. He had lost track of time after descending into the basement of HQ to escape the pitying stares of the others after he tried to take his own life. All he knew now was anger.

How dare Athena be upset with him, he thought viciously. None of this was her business. She couldn't possibly begin to understand the pain he felt - the physical aches inside and out, the mental anguish as his torturer plagued him even after death. None of them had any _idea_!

Lawrence wasn’t normally a physically violent person when he was angry, but this time he couldn’t keep himself from lashing out and knocking a handful of tools off the nearest workbench. They hit the ground with a satisfying clatter, but all too soon he was feeling bad and picking them all up as his anger dribbled into a dark, cold pool of sorrow.

He found himself sobbing quietly to himself yet again. Holding in his cries hurt his throat and chest, but he didn't want anyone coming down here, didn't want anyone to judge him even more than they already were. It was a miracle no one had come down to investigate the clatter from the falling tools.

He wanted to go home, he thought for the first time in a while. But he didn't have a home any more. He didn't have a mother to run to for comfort, didn't have five little sisters to annoy the crap out of him or steal his things or hug him when he was feeling sad. He had nothing now. What was the point?

 _Eridium_ , Jack's voice in his head hissed. _Eridium could make things better._

Lawrence jerked, startled and mildly appalled by the suggestion. Why would Eridium -

 _You wouldn't feel anything anymore. No more pain, no more suffering_ , Jack assured him.

A line of drool escaped Lawrence's mouth, but he barely noticed, too busy looking around the room for any sign of the mineral. It was stupid; nobody ever left Eridium sitting out in plain sight, but his desire for it - or, perhaps, his desire to not feel anything anymore - became so ravenous that he actually gave in to the goddamned voice of the ex-Hyperion CEO. He started to get up from his crouched position.

"Law?"

He fell back onto his ass as Axton descended the staircase. He had a little first aid kid in his hand that he held up like a peace offering.

"Thought you might need this to stitch up your arm," the commando said.

Startled, Lawrence looked at the offending appendage and noted the blood still sluggishly staining the fabric of his shirt from the slash Zero had given him earlier. Now that he was aware of it again, the stinging pain quickly caught up with his senses, making him hiss quietly through his teeth.

"Want some help?" Axton asked as he came over and set the kit down on the nearest workbench. "I dunno about you, but I need both hands to do a decent stitch job."

Lawrence just shrugged his good shoulder and moved over so that Axton could pull up a stool next to him. He didn't want to be babied, and Axton seemed to realize that as he worked. His touches as he wiped the wound clean were careful, but not overly so, and he offered no words of encouragement as he pierced the torn flesh around the wound with the curved needle.

"Did Athena put you up to this?" Lawrence asked once the silence became too stuffy and the anger in his body too much to handle.

"Huh?"

"Like she put you up to coming into the shower the other day."

Axton scrunched his nose up. "She never asked me to do any of this," he said, keeping his gaze on the wound. "Why? Is it really that hard to believe someone would go out of their way to be generous to someone else?"

"Oh this side of the galaxy, yes."

"Fair 'nough." Axton tied off the stitch and reached for one of the numerous bottles of alcohol scattered throughout the workshop. He popped the top off of it and gave it a whiff. The face he made didn't make Lawrence want to put it anywhere near his body.

"This is gonna sting," was all the warning Lawrence got before Axton was dumping a generous portion of the bottle over his wound.

" _Fuck_!" Lawrence howled, trying to jerk away from the commando, but Axton had a firm grip on his arm and kept him there as the wound burned. The sudden shock of pain brought another round of tears to Lawrence's eyes as he lashed out and grabbed the commando's shoulder with his free hand, twisting his fingers in the rough material of his shirt. He stood there hunched over and shaking long after the burning sensation left him.

"I'm gonna be makin' pancakes for breakfast," Axton said after a while. He didn't move as Lawrence continued to grip him, but his voice was enough to snap Lawrence out of it and make him slowly withdraw. "Want me to send Gaige to get you when they're ready?"

Lawrence sniffed. "Okay."

"Okay." Axton stood up. He gave Lawrence's good arm a brief squeeze before he headed for the stairs and disappeared.

Time ticked on, and gradually Lawrence’s thoughts faded into this gray haze, leaving him staring blankly at the floor for who knows how long. This strange state of mind was interrupted only by the sound of someone descending the staircase and calling out his name.

“T-Law?” It was Gaige. Was it morning already?

He made a desperate attempt to wipe his ugly face. "Yes?" he choked out.

"Axton sent me to get you for breakfast," Gaige said quietly from the staircase. She stayed there, bless her. "Do you like anything special with yours?"

Lawrence hesitated for a moment. "Just...syrup and butter. Maybe powdered sugar, if there is any."

"Okay, cool. See you in a few."

"Okay."

Gaige retreated back up the stairs, and the room went quiet again. Lawrence stood there for a long time, frozen to the spot as the voice in his head raged at him for standing around when he could be searching for Eridium.

Why had he been so ravenous for it again? He probably should be concerned about that, but the scent of pancakes hit his nostrils, easily distracting him from the troubling topic. He slowly made his way upstairs, following the scent of food.

HQ didn't really have a kitchen, but Axton appeared to be making do with what he had, which was nothing more than a barrel filled with burning wood and a flat piece of metal laid across the rim of it. There were five pancakes cooking on it and maybe a dozen more cooling on an old plate behind him on the table.

"Mornin', sunshine," Axton greeted, flashing him a grin. "Hope you're hungry. I'm making enough pancakes to feed sixteen of Krieg."

"Since you're the first to arrive, you can pick out the good ones," Gaige told him as she breezed past him with a bottle of syrup. "Also, sorry, there's no butter here. Plenty of syrup and sugar, though!"

"That's fine," Lawrence said softly as he lowered himself into the nearest chair behind the table. "Thank you."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with these," Axton groused, poking one with a spatula held together with duct tape. "I'd like to see you do better, missy!"

"I will when it's my turn to cook ‘cos I lost a bet."

Axton flung a semi-burnt pancake at her that she deftly dodged with a cackle.

Lawrence cracked a small smile as the two continued to bicker. He filled his plate with two pancakes and loaded them with sugar, hoping that the food wouldn't taste like ash this time. No such luck, he noted sadly as he took a bite. His displeasure must have shown on his face, because when he glanced up at the room's other occupants, he found them frowning at him from their own seats.

"They that bad?" the commando asked, looking like a scruffy, kicked puppy.

"No," Lawrence said, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he spoke. "I just...haven't been able to taste much since I woke up."

Axton's frown merely deepened. "Well, _that_ sucks. You think it's 'cos of the whole Eridium thing?"

"Well, I could certainly taste before. Even after they surgically altered my tongue so it resembled Jack's."

Gaige's eyebrows shot up as she took a seat across from him. "They changed your _tongue_? Jeez. Is there any part of you they _didn't_ change?"

Lawrence felt his face turn red, though neither of them could tell. "Nope. I'm...well, I _was_ a one-hundred-percent-accurate body double."

"How does one get suckered into being a literal body double for Handsome Jack in the first place?" the mechromancer wondered out loud. "Did they abduct you?"

Lawrence frowned down at his food. "I needed money,” he said. “I thought I'd gotten a free ride to college 'cos my dad worked there, but when he died, they snatched back all their funding, leaving me and my family in so much debt I was sure I'd never get out of it."

"Didn't your mom have a job?" Gaige asked, leaning on her robot arm. "Couldn't she've helped you?"

"Not with five teenage daughters, no. Mom had no choice but to be a housewife, at least until they graduated high school. She..." He sighed and ran a hand over the shorn part of his scalp. "She had always sorta been an alcoholic, but it really didn't get bad until after dad died. We had no steady income, and any money my sisters made from their part time jobs went straight into mom's drinking habit.

"When I saw the ad Jack put out for a body double, I applied for an interview, mostly because the pay was amazing and I was beyond desperate at that point. I guess part of me felt guilty for all the debt. I didn't even major in anything that could land me a decent, well-paying job, so that just made me feel even worse. Mom never said anything, but I could tell that she was bitter about it. She drank more whenever I was around."

He couldn't blame her. He never had, even when Hyperion arranged his fake death and reported back that she had laughed about it when they told her. Something told him they'd been lying, just trying to further sever the ties he had with his family. But another part of him acknowledged that it might have been true, that his drunken mother had received word of her eldest child's untimely death and laughed in reply. He had thrown his family into debt. Of course she might hate him for it.

He wiped at his eyes, sniffling. "I don't even know if they're still alive," he whispered hoarsely. "Jack told me he was going to 'talk' to my mother, but I never asked him if he made good on that threat. I was too afraid to hear the answer."

"Well," Axton said through a sigh, "my money's on she's still kickin'. Jack was an idiot in a lotta ways, but I'm sure he knew that if he killed your family, he'd have no hold over you."

Gaige nodded firmly. "Makes sense. I'm sure they're fine."

That would certainly explain why Jack never brought up his mother after he'd gotten the ECHO port surgery, Lawrence thought. If he'd gone through with killing her, he would have taunted him about it - especially in the end.

"What happened at the interview?" Axton asked quietly, sounding curious but unwilling to pry at the same time. 

Lawrence wiped away the last of his tears. "I only expected the interview when I showed up," he explained. "When I resisted, they kept bringing up the money I’d be making, and I kept thinking about my mom and my sisters. But I don't think I could've backed out even if I wasn't already feeling guilty. They forced me through a doorway for my quote-unquote interview, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a body that wasn't mine."

Both Gaige and Axton were looking a tad sick now. "And how did _that_ go?"

Lawrence shrugged. He could have told them the truth, about how the anesthesia they'd used on him had fucked with his memories and left him believing that he'd willingly undergone the surgery, but the story was depressing enough. Finding out the truth about that had been a super fun day, he recalled, grimacing. 

"I guess it went pretty damn well, all things considered," he said instead. "A literal nightmare for me at first, but Jack seemed really pleased with the outcome. You can't tell now, but I was almost as handsome as he was," he joked flatly.

"Aw, c'mon." Axton nudged him. "You're still handsome. Only now, instead of being Handsome Jack handsome, you're your own kinda handsome."

"Yeah!" Gaige agreed, grinning around a mouthful of pancake. "Some chicks totally dig scars."

"Some dudes do, too," Axton pointed out, winking.

"Guys, please," Lawrence mumbled, bringing his hands up to cover his hideously red face, and also to hide his smile. How ironic that the people he’d been forced to try to kill were turning into the only people he felt comfortable enough around to talk openly to.

Breakfast continued as the other vault hunters began to surface from their beds. Mordecai and Lilith were the first group to arrive, followed by Maya and eventually Zero. The sight of the masked assassin made Lawrence's chest hurt, but the dude didn't even bat an eye his way. Lawrence withdrew back into his shell as the group began to converse; he was grateful that nobody was bugging him, but the feeling of being left out was proving to be quite a nuisance as well.

He decided to make a quiet escape. No one noticed him as he made his way towards the front door of HQ - that is, until the door was yanked open so hard that it slammed against the outside wall. Everyone paused long enough in their feasting to see what the disturbance was, only to immediately go back to eating when they saw it was only Krieg.

" _I hear meat_ ," the behemoth snarled, thundering forward.

Lawrence braced himself, too stunned and frightened to do anything but stand there with his hands lifted in a pathetic attempt at self-defense, but the mutant merely thudded past him and joined the crew at the tables in devouring breakfast.

Lawrence watched for a moment until the shock wore off long enough for him to dart out of the building and into the street. He didn't get far, however.

"Hey," Lilith's voice snapped from the doorway of HQ. Lawrence flinched and whirled to face her, shrinking in on himself.

"I wasn't going to run," he blurted. "I just need some air. Please."

The siren hummed, then tossed something at him. He caught it and was surprised to find an ECHO device sitting in his hands, battered but still functioning.

"I expect you to answer if you're hailed," Lilith told him. She hesitated and looked uncharacteristically embarrassed as she quickly added, "Athena mentioned you liked to write. There's an app on that thing that'll let you do that."

He stared at her, touched and shocked and confused all at once by her act of kindness. He brought the device close to his chest as he said, "I'm sorry for what I said about Roland yesterday. I was out of line."

Lilith just shrugged and turned to go back inside. "People do stupid things when they're hurting. I would know, I've done stupid shit a few times myself."

Lawrence probably should have argued with her, but she was gone before he could open his mouth again. The door to HQ shut behind her, leaving him standing alone in the alleyway save for a Crimson Raider who was either asleep under his helmet or had become accustomed to the weird shenanigans the rest of the Raiders got up to.

Recalling what he'd seen while on his walk with Gaige, he headed in the opposite direction of the main circle, towards a section of town he hadn't seen yet. At the end of the main road was a shop run by someone called Dr. Zed. Lawrence thought about stopping in, maybe getting a quick check-up, but the last thing he needed was to find out he had turbo cancer or something on top of all his other ailments. No, he'd save that trauma for another day.

The path to the right of the shop was dirtier than the one to the left, so he chose to go that way, hoping to find some place so run down and gross that he'd be able to get a few moments of peace and quiet.

Indeed, as he grew farther from the main streets, the noise faded into a distant thrumming, though that might have just been the machine or whatever that was keeping the city afloat. It was a lot easier to listen to than the shouting of store owners and the shrieking of children dashing around the center of town, at any rate, so he wasn't about to complain.

That was before he turned the corner and reached the end of the road. Claptrap, the very same robot who'd helped him hunt a vault on Elpis, was beat-boxing to himself among piles of trash and broken machine parts.

Lawrence froze at the sight of the yellow robot. "Claptrap?" he blurted before his brain could tell his mouth to shut up. "Holy shit, I thought Jack killed you."

The last clear memory Lawrence had of Claptrap was Jack blowing a hole through his body with his laser wrists almost immediately after he strangled Tassiter and took over Hyperion. Lawrence had felt a little bad at the time - the dude had saved his life on several occasions, after all - but there wasn't much he could do about it.

Claptrap took one look at him and began to scream. "It's the ghost of Handsome Jack! I knew he would come back to haunt us all!" he wailed, making Lawrence wince in pain. He did not miss the sound of this dude's voice.

"Stop yelling," he snapped. "I'm not Jack."

The robot immediately relaxed and wiped imaginary sweat off his non-existing brow. "Oh, what a relief!" he exclaimed. "I mean, I knew that. What brings you to my humble corner of Sanctuary, Not-Jack?"

"You don't..." Lawrence shut his mouth and shook his head, chuckling thinly over the fact he was about to ask Claptrap if he recognized him. "It's me, the - the double you ran around with on Elpis a few years ago. I saved your ass a bunch of times, you returned the favor? Yes?"

"Ohh," the robot said slowly. If he had a neck, he probably would've been nodding. " _Oh_ , that's right! You're that poor guy that got suckered into being Jack's body double!"

Lawrence frowned as he recalled why he hated this guy so much. "Yes, thank you for that lovely reminder. I go by Lawrence now. Do you know anywhere quiet for me to just sit for a while?"

"Sure! I know tons of quiet places! There's that chair over there that's pretty quiet, and that pile of trash is pretty quiet, too! And if you're feeling super adventurous, the rooftop right there is nice and quiet!"

Lawrence's eyes flicked to the rooftop in question. It was only a few feet up and could be easily accessed by clambering onto the dumpster right below it, but the familiar sensation of his stomach twisting in fear of being so high up made him swallow hard and hesitate.

 _You jettisoned yourself halfway across Elpis on jump pads_ , Timothy reminded him quietly. _You can climb up to a goddamned rooftop without crapping yourself._

Yeah, he could. Still:

"Uh, I believe I said 'quiet'. You are the opposite of quiet, Claptrap, and all those places you just pointed out are near you."

"Hey, I can be quiet if I want to! It just so happens that I'm not programmed to want to, so there!"

Lawrence dragged a hand through his hair and yanked on what little he had left. "Just - never mind!" He headed for the dumpster and hauled himself up onto it, sneering at the stench that greeted him. From there he could easily grab the edge of the roof and scramble his skinny ass on up.

"Okay! I'll just...wait here then!" Claptrap called.

"Good," Lawrence groused as he planted himself against the wall of the taller building next to the roof, as far away from the robot as he could get. "Wait and be quiet. I know it's a foreign concept to you, but do me a favor and try."

Not bothering to listen to Claptrap's response, he pulled out the ECHO device and sat it against his thighs. It was a standard model, but when he powered it up and located the app Lilith had mentioned, a holographic keyboard and transparent monitor screen popped up, displaying as if he was seated in front of a real desktop computer.

He stared down at the blinking cursor, suddenly tense. He hadn't written anything in years, not since Jack found his stuff and burned it all. What if he forgot how to write? What if he just wasn't any good? Not that he had been a genius writer before, but what if he'd gotten worse due to lack of practice?

 _Well, the only way to find out is to try_ , Timothy said.

Lawrence agreed with him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and memories of his past work, of the fantasy novel he'd been in the process of brainstorming when Jack swooped in and crushed his dreams. Most of it had been fleshed out. It was just a matter of writing it all down into something concise and interesting to read. That was the hard part.

 _Just go for it_ , Timothy urged him, sounding desperate. _And remember, the first draft is always crap._

That much was, at least, a hundred percent true.

Lawrence brought his shaking, scarred fingers to the holographic keyboard and hesitantly began to type.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was an update yesterday, if you missed it!

Lawrence was halfway through outlining chapter one when the sound of wings beating drew him back to his unfortunate reality. Perched on the edge of the roof was a strange looking bird, about the size of a full-grown cat, with a long tail and razor sharp talons. It was busy cleaning its equally sharp beak on the edge of the roof and didn't bother looking up when Lawrence scooted a little bit closer to it, mystified.

He didn't know much about Pandoran wildlife other than ninety percent of it was dangerous and/or capable of ripping your limbs clean off, so he fully expected this creature to fall under that category. That didn't stop his stupid-ass, animal-loving self from attempting to communicate with it, however.

"Hey there," Lawrence cooed, slowly holding his hand out as he clicked his tongue. "C'mere, buddy."

The bird looked up at him through angry, slanted eyes and screeched at him, making him jerk slightly in surprise. The bird spread its huge wings and began to hop towards him on his sharp feet. Lawrence backpedaled, realized far too late that he was being an idiot, and braced himself to be torn to shreds.

Instead, the creature hopped onto his knee. Its talons sank past the denim and dug painfully into his flesh, but Lawrence resisted flinching, too stunned by the creature's proximity. Despite it being frightening and lethal, the bird was undoubtedly amazing.

"Y-you're very pretty," he told it, as if that would somehow keep it from mauling him. "Er, handsome? How about just plain awesome?"

The bird squawked in agreement and proceeded to thrust itself onto Lawrence's head. He squealed in pain as the creature's talons scraped against his scalp, but it wasn't trying to kill or even maim. Lawrence fell still as the bird began to knead and tug on pieces of his hair like a cat attempting to make up its bed. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the bird settled into its new nest and began to purr contentedly.

"You all right up there?" Claptrap called from down below.

"I..." Lawrence hesitated, afraid to knock the creature askew. "There's a bird on my head. A big one, with really, really sharp claws."

"Ohh, that's Talon, Mordecai's bloodwing," Claptrap said, laughing. "She likes to perch up there sometimes, usually when Mordecai's been drinking and is in a crappy mood, which is actually pretty often!"

Lawrence hummed and reached up to stroke Talon's wing with a tentative finger. "I feel you, girl." He’d tried to avoid his mother whenever she was in a drunken mood, too.

While Claptrap kept distantly yammering about who-the-hell-cares, Lawrence sat on the rooftop for a while, afraid to move lest he disturb the creature perched on his head. Despite the pain in his neck from the added weight and in his scalp from where the bird had anchored itself, Lawrence felt more content than he had in a long time.

Eventually, he picked up his ECHO device and continued writing.

The peace lasted for maybe half an hour before Mordecai's angry, drunken voice disturbed them both. Talon jerked out of her slumber with a small squawk and dug a claw into Lawrence's head, snapping him out of his writing trance just in time to hear the sniper howling for his bird.

When Talon failed to show interest in finding her owner, Lawrence rolled his eyes skyward to the irritated creature drooping over his brow. "Well? Go to him!"

Talon just huffed and pecked at his nose, making him squeal and cover it more so out of outrage than pain.

"Uh, Lawrence?" came Claptrap's shaky voice from the alleyway, "I think you ought'a send Talon on her way before Mordecai gets here. He can get a little...stabby when he's in one of his moods."

"She won't get off me!" Lawrence snapped back. Suddenly he was nervous for his life. "Just - stall him or something while I...!" He reached up, intent on plucking the bloodwing off his head, but he hesitated, knowing that Talon would probably claw the shit out of him for trying. "Talon, please, I really don't feel like getting stabbed today!"

"Oh, hi, Mordecai!" Claptrap said suddenly, sounding about as nervous as Lawrence felt. "You're looking marvelously drunk today! Is that rakk ale? Good vintage?"

"Where's Talon?" the sniper snapped. "She up there?"

"N-no, of course not! What a silly assumption! I mean, just because she normally hangs out there doesn't mean she's there this time! Uh - you - you really shouldn't - uh oh."

Lawrence sucked in a panicked gasp as Mordecai's head appeared over the edge of the rooftop. The second he caught sight of Talon nestled on top of Lawrence's head, his entire expression, which was already on the irritated side, darkened tenfold.

"What the hell did you do to her?" he yelled, hauling himself up the rest of the way and stomping forward. His knife was out and clutched tightly in his hand.

"I-I didn't - she came to me and - "

Lawrence grunted as Mordecai punched him in the face, splitting his lip open and disrupting Talon from her perch. She screeched and darted around Mordecai in outrage, but the drunken man didn't notice, too enraged with Lawrence to care what his bird thought.

"You don't touch her! You don't even look at her, you piece of shit!" the sniper continued to howl as he punched Lawrence again, then grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him over to the edge of the building. It was only a story up, but an awkward fall would surely break something, especially if he slammed into the dumpster at an angle.

_Maybe you'll break your stupid, worthless neck_ , Jack hissed nastily.

Fury replaced the fear and pain throbbing through Lawrence's bloodied body. With a surge of strength, he twisted in Mordecai's grasp and lashed out with his foot, catching the sniper in the gut. Before Mordecai could recover, Lawrence rolled off the side of the roof and landed on shaky legs in the dirty alleyway a few feet from a quivering Claptrap.

"He hit me first! You're my witness!" Lawrence told him as he scrambled away.

Lawrence made it to the center of town when a bullet pierced his leg, tearing a chunk of his calf away. Immediately after the pain hit him, he heard the crack of a sniper rifle going off, followed by his own strangled scream as he collapsed in a bleeding pile in the middle of the street.

Adrenaline quickly overcame the pain, allowing him to get back on his feet and run past the startled clusters of civilians, but he only made it to the alleyway entrance when a wave of exhaustion dragged him back into the dirt.

A shadow fell over him just as another shot rang out. He flinched, expecting pain or even the cold embrace of death, but only the familiar sound of Athena's Aspis shield powering up met his ears. He looked over his shoulder to see his gladiator friend in full-defense mode, shielding both of them with Aspis as Mordecai fired a third shot from the rooftop. The bullet was easily absorbed by Aspis, which only seemed to infuriate the sniper further.

"What the hell is going on?" Lilith's enraged voice snapped from the direction of HQ. Lawrence turned back to see her as well as Brick and Maya hurrying over to them.

"Tell him to stand down," Athena snarled over her shoulder as another sniper round found a home in her shield, "or I'm going to throw this at him."

Lilith heaved a long-suffering sigh and squinted up at Mordecai. "Knock it off, Mordy! Get your skinny ass down here and explain yourself!" As the sniper cursed and proceeded to do just that, she turned to arch a brow down at Lawrence. "Care to tell me what pissed him off so badly this early in the day?"

"He attacked me," Lawrence rasped, flinching as he tried to get to his feet. "I didn't do anything, I swear. Claptrap can vouch for me."

Lilith frowned at him, then at Mordecai as the sniper stumbled his way towards them. Her nose wrinkled the second she realized how drunk he was, either because she could smell it on him or because it was just very damn obvious.

"He had Talon!" the sniper was snarling, pointing an accusing finger at Lawrence, who flinched and further positioned himself behind the safety of Athena's shield. "Son of a bastard did something to her, I know it!"

Anger bubbled up alongside the current wave of hysterics that plagued Lawrence. "All I did was give her a place to hang out and sleep!" he snapped. "I gave her peace and quiet, which she apparently didn't get from you!"

Mordecai whipped out his blade and made to slash a line through Lawrence's throat, but Brick snatched him up and pinned his arms to his side before that could happen.

“Deep breaths, Mordy,” the berserker cooed, practically rocking the man back and forth.

Mordecai hissed and cursed in his native tongue and thrashed his long legs in a drunken, desperate attempt to break free from the man, but Brick's grip was as strong as his punches.

Lilith rolled her eyes skyward. "Enough," she groused. "Talon can take care of herself and you know it, Mordy. And honestly, I can't blame her for taking off when you're this drunk."

That had the sniper sagging in Brick's grasp, though his heaving chest indicated that was probably due to fatigue rather than acceptance. At her nod, the berserker began toting Mordecai back to HQ. Lawrence watched them go, simultaneously baffled and furious.

"He had a bird before," Maya explained quietly, no doubt noting the storminess in his gaze. "Jack did awful, terrible things to her before violently killing her. Mordecai probably just panicked seeing you with Talon - "

"I'm not Jack," Lawrence spat.

"I know that, and Mordecai knows it too. He's just drunk."

Lawrence gritted his teeth and jerked away from the lot of them, moving closer to Athena. "I will defend myself," he told the siren quietly but firmly. "If anyone comes at me like he did, I'm not just gonna sit back and take it."

Lilith nodded curtly. For a split second, Lawrence swore he saw a pleased smirk on her face. "As you should. Hopefully we won't have a repeat of this."

"Hopefully," he echoed, surprising himself by how icy his tone was.

Lilith didn't seem to notice as she turned and headed back towards headquarters. Her mind was clearly on something else, but Lawrence would be lying if he said he cared to know what. At the moment, he was quite sick of this place and it's crazy people with their crazy problems. He had enough of his own to deal with.

Athena laid a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his crude thoughts. "Come on, let's assess the damage and get you patched up," she said, eyes on his bleeding leg.

"I don't want to go in there," Lawrence admitted quietly, glowering at HQ. "Not until Mordecai's cooled off and sobered up some, at least."

"There's running water and medical supplies in my house," Maya said, pointing over her shoulder. "You're welcome to them."

Lawrence nodded in thanks and gratefully took Athena's offered arm. The adrenaline was wearing off and he was beginning to feel the burning pain in his leg from the bullet, especially as he began to hobble his way towards Maya's house.

The siren unlocked the door and let them in, muttering a quick apology about the mess, of which there was none, at least to Lawrence. She thankfully left them to it with a parting nod.

Athena lowered him onto the bed and he rolled onto his stomach, allowing her to poke and prod at the wound in his calf. As she pulled the torn cloth of his pants out of the way, he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. The wound was about the size of a quarter and it burned like the dickens, but he kept quiet, forcing his mind to go somewhere else for the time being.

"Looks like it's just a flesh wound," Athena said eventually, pulling away to snag the medical kit off the bedside table. "You'll need stitches."

"Of course," Lawrence sighed into the pillow. At least he still had a leg, the positive side of his brain told him. He told that side to shut the fuck up.

"Strip," Athena ordered, gesturing to his pants. "Unless you want me to cut them."

They had done this dance many times before on Elpis when med hypos had been scarce and wounds had been too deep or large for simply slapping a bandage over. It had been awkward at first, seeing parts of his teammates that didn't usually see the light of day outside of the bathroom or bedroom, but he'd grown used to it over time. There was no time for shame or embarrassment when you're bleeding out on the field.

Still, it didn't hurt to give a head's up. "I'm, uh, not wearing any - "

Athena sent him a flat look. "I've bathed you and dressed you," she reminded him. "Take off your damn pants, Lawrence. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

Lawrence threw his hands up in defeat and wiggled out of his pants. He eyed the shredded hole in the leg, frowning. Gaige had bought him these only a few days ago, dammit. Maybe he could stitch them up later before the hole got worse.

Athena forced him back down onto the bed and blessedly tossed the pants over his bare ass so that he could stop mooning the world. He grunted when his belt bopped him in the head, but before he could protest, she told him to bite down on it or risk losing his tongue. His confusion mounted until he caught sight of the small container of what was undeniably disinfectant in her hand.

He stuffed as much of the leather in his mouth as he could and muffled his agonized groan in Maya's pillow as Athena dabbed at the gunshot wound with a soaked cotton ball. The jabbing pain faded soon enough, leaving him trembling slightly and breathing deeply as Athena began to sew the wound shut. She was skilled and wasted little time, closing almost half of it by the time Lawrence forced words out of his mouth.

"Are you going to stay here?" he chanced asking her. 

She didn't pause in her work. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "We're being kept in the dark about this impending war, so I'm not too concerned about it. I'll probably help out when the time comes."

Lawrence hummed. "I'm sick of fighting," he whispered.

"Lilith can't make you stay if you don't want to."

"I have nowhere else to go, though. At least, no where this safe. Safe-ish," he grumbled, flexing the toes on his wounded leg. "And I know she won't let me live here without me pulling my weight."

"You could come with me to Elpis. I was planning on visiting Janey since I haven't seen her since we were hunting that vault. I know she'd love to see you, too."

Lawrence shuddered. Elpis was far too close to Helios for his liking, and he would have said as much if another thought didn't occur to him. "Wait," he blurted, turning to arch a brow at her over his shoulder. "I thought you went back to Elpis to have that drink with her right after you quit."

"No," Athena said quietly, gaze downcast. "I couldn't."

"Why not?" Lawrence asked, brow furrowing with concern. "Did Jack blackmail you or something?"

"No, that's not what I mean. I couldn't just go hang out and drink with Janey knowing that you were suffering so much on Helios. I might not have been able to take you with me when I left, but there was something else I could do that might have made up for it, at least a little bit."

"Which was...?"

Athena licked her lips and continued to stare at Lawrence's leg as she answered. "I went to check on your mother and sisters. I wasn't sure if Jack was going to make good on his threat to have your mother brought to Helios, but if he did, I was going to do my damnedest to stop it from happening."

Lawrence gaped at her, stunned almost beyond words. His mother was alive? "Athena," he choked out. "Oh my god, did...are they...?"

"When I left them about a year ago, they were fine," she said. Her cheeks were turning pink from bashfulness. "I made them promise to keep in contact at least once a month, and they've made good on that since then - "

Completely forgetting about his wound, Lawrence twisted around and latched his arms around her neck in a frantic hug. He was shaking and leaking various fluids from his face as he babbled "Thank you" over and over again. Athena gradually returned the hug, gripping him tightly until his shaking ceased and he was able to spit out legitimate words again.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked hoarsely as he dragged a hand across his cheeks.

She hesitated and averted her gaze. "I...wasn't going to."

Lawrence's expression crumbled again as his shoulders slouched. "Wh-why not?"

"They still think you're dead, Lawrence. I tried to keep my distance at first, but your mother caught me and insisted that I stay for a while once I introduced myself as an old friend of yours. I felt bad lying to her, but I figured it was for the best - for their safety as well as your own."

As upset as he was, Lawrence couldn't deny that Athena made the right move. "Well...did they get any of the money I sent them at least?"

The gladiator nodded and urged him to roll back onto his stomach so that she could finish stitching him up. "You told me once that you lived on an old farmstead with a dilapidated barn and a house that needed some serious painting and repair. The homestead I was invited into was the exact opposite, so yes, I assume they've been getting the money."

"That's good," he said through a relieved sigh. He felt exhausted as he buried his face in Maya's pillow, which was now damp with tears and snot. He'd have to find her a new one in apology. "That - that's great."

Athena hummed. "They miss you," she said almost hesitantly. "Your sisters spoke very fondly of you. You're very lucky to have them."

"I was," Lawrence agreed, shutting his eyes. It was amazing how he could be both overjoyed and riddled with angst and pain at the same time. "Timothy was."

Athena gave his good leg a squeeze before she reached for the medical kit, fetching a roll of gauze to wrap his stitched-up calf in. By the time she finished wrapping it, he was half asleep, exhausted by the day's drama. He would definitely sleep well tonight. Hopefully the nightmares would stay away for once.

"That crap I said last night about you not knowing how to be a good friend? S'all bullshit," he slurred.

"I know," Athena said, flashing him a genuine smile. She patted his good leg, urging him to sit up and get dressed. "Come on, Maya's going to want her house back eventually."

"I owe her a new pillow," Lawrence grumbled as he reluctantly got to his feet and slid his pants on, mindful of his fresh bandages. His leg gave a throb in protest, but it was nothing compared to some of the other wounds he'd dealt with over the years. Nevertheless, he accepted the arm Athena offered him.

They slowly made their way back onto the street, their destination the Crimson Raiders HQ. Lawrence yanked his hood back up with his free hand, knowing the effort was meaningless - everyone around town had probably heard about the Jack lookalike who had gotten his ass handed to him by their outraged sniper. Still, he felt better with it on and was grateful when Athena made no comment on it.

"Are you going to go see Janey?" he asked.

Athena shrugged and looked up at the moon. Helios was casting a menacing shadow across Elpis's cracked, molten surface, as usual. "It's been so long. We've kept in touch, but I don't know if she'd want to see me after all this time."

"I think she would. Even if it's just a quick visit." He grinned at her and elbowed her gently in the ribs. "You two make a cute couple, y'know. Everyone thinks so."

Athena scoffed quietly. "Shut up," she grumbled, turning away from him and picking up her pace in a lame attempt to hide the blush on her cheeks.

Lawrence grinned and hobbled faster to keep up with her. "You do, though! And it's clear she cares about you a lot. I think this could be good for you."

"She would want me to give up the merc life."

Lawrence's brow furrowed. "Oh. Well, maybe now's a good time for that."

"But all I know is killing people," she remarked almost sadly. "Literally. I have no other marketable talents or hobbies." Her gaze darkened with anger and hints of tired defeat. "Atlas made sure of that."

"No talents that you _know_ of," Lawrence urged gently. "Just...explain the situation to Janey. Make sure she understands that you're willing to change, but it's gonna take some time. I'm sure she would love to teach you how to do other things." He shrugged. "And hey, if nothing else, when I become a famous author, I'll hire you to do my audio books."

That got a chuckle out of the gladiator. "Does this mean we have your blessing?" she asked, arching a brow at him while a small smirk played across her lips.

Lawrence laughed. "Yes, Big Bro Lawrence has given you and Janey his blessing.”

"Oh, you're the big brother now? Because I seem to recall me having to haul your butt around Elpis whenever you got scared by your own shadow or stubbed your toe or - "

"Whatever!" He gave her a playful shove, though she barely budged. "Tell Janey I said hi."

"If everything goes well, I'll be bringing her back here eventually." Athena frowned, sobering up again. "Assuming this war doesn't cause problems. She might actually be safer on Elpis."

Lawrence echoed Athena's frown. "Do we know, like, _anything_ about this war? Where is Lilith even getting this information?"

"Do you remember the Eridian creature that aided Zarpedon in her mission? The large one that confronted us before we were jettisoned down to Elpis for the first time?"

It took Lawrence a second to figure out which Eridian monstrosity Athena was referring to. They were all hideous and scary as hell, but the only one that legitimately made him want to fall to his knees and cry was the one that stopped Jack's laser blasts in their tracks and hissed taunting words in their brains.

He shuddered at the memory. He'd had his doubts about the whole body-double gig before then, but that very moment was what made him realize just how in over his head he was.

"You mean the giant psychic alien thing that almost made me piss my pants? Yeah, I remember." He began to fidget as his anxiety kicked in full-throttle. "Don't - don't tell me that thing is here. I thought Sanctuary was, y'know, safe."

"The Watcher never attacked us," Athena pointed out, and Lawrence would have argued with her if he hadn't realized that she was right. "And...it saved my life when Lilith decided to have me executed."

Lawrence stared at her, gobsmacked. "Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

"You are not."

Athena shrugged. "I don't believe the creature is a threat. It was the one that informed us of the impending war. It's shown up a few times since then to speak to Lilith in private, but I don't know the extent of the information it's given her - if any."

Lawrence hummed, only half-hearing her words. He was paranoid now and glancing out of the corner of his eyes rapidly, foolishly checking each dark nook and cranny of Sanctuary as if the Watcher would just be standing there, waiting.

His eyes snapped down to stare at the tainted hand still clutching Athena's arm. Though covered by a glove, the purple streaks beneath the rakk leather mocked him.

_You're like those creatures, you know_ , Jack told him. Lawrence could hear the sneer in his voice. _The ones on Elpis that mutated into purple zombie freaks. You're a goddamned freak, kid._

Lawrence began to sweat.

_I wonder how that Watcher dickbag would react to seeing you. Probably drag you back to Elpis to be with the rest of the brain-dead freaks. Wouldn't that be great, kiddo?_

"Lawrence! Heeey, Lawrence!"

He most certainly did not squeal in fear at the sound of Claptrap's grating voice, nor did he jump and hunch his shoulders in self-defense. Athena sent him a weird look as he hurried to cover up the whole ordeal with a cough and an over-elaborate stretch routine that she did not buy for one second.

" _What_ , Claptrap?" he snapped as the robot rolled up to them, waving his stupid arms.

"You dropped this when you were running for your life!" Claptrap held out an ECHO device - _his_ ECHO device, Lawrence realized, almost snatching the thing out of the robot's metallic grasp. "Being the good friend that I am, I saved it from being trampled and brought it back to you! You're welcome!"

"Yeah, whatever, thanks."

As they started walking again - pointedly away from Claptrap, who took no notice and began to roll after them, damn him - Athena cocked her head at the ECHO device he was currently clutching to his chest like his life depended on it. "Are you writing again?" she inquired.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm trying to get back into the swing of it. It's harder than I remember it being." He paused and ran his thumb across the edge of the ECHO device. "I've been meaning to ask. Can I, um...base a character off of you?"

She stopped in her tracks and sent him a wide-eyed look of confusion. "But why would you want to?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I don't kid."

"Yes you do!" Lawrence yelled, mockingly smashing her over the head with the ECHO device. "Don't be so surprised! You're, like, the coolest person I know, okay?"

"I'm plain. Boring."

"You're badass. Beautiful. Intelligent. Who _wouldn't_ wanna base a character off of you?"

"He's got a point," Claptrap piped up, much to their annoyance. At least the guy was on his side, Lawrence reasoned, trying not to lose his temper with him just yet.

Athena frowned down at the ground, clearly unconvinced despite the faint bashful blush dusting her cheeks. It was clear that compliments were something she wasn't accustomed to. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze of reassurance.

"Go see Janey," he said gently, smiling. "I'm sure she'll be happy to tell you everything that makes you awesome if you can't take my word for it. That and then some."

Athena puffed out her cheeks in a pout. "All right," she relented finally.

“‘All right I can base a character off of you,’ or ‘all right I really am as awesome as you say I am’?”

"Both."

Lawrence cackled, earning a slight shove from the gladiator, if only to hide her own grin.

"Ooh! Can you base a character off of _me_ , Lawrence?" Claptrap asked suddenly and loudly.

"Go away," Athena and Lawrence replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	20. Chapter 20

Athena requested to leave for Elpis shortly after their talk, promising both Lawrence and a wary Lilith that she would be back in a couple of months, depending on how easy it was to convince Janey Springs to join her on Pandora. The siren had been less than pleased to hear she would be departing and wasn't shy about making it known to them.

Athena merely cocked a less-than-impressed brow at her and folded her arms across her chest. "You told me I wasn't your prisoner any longer," she said. "Are you going back on your word?"

Lilith huffed, insulted. "No. But we're tight on space as it is," she snapped, gesturing to the room around her with a wide sweep of her tattooed arm.

That much was true. Lawrence had claimed one of the bunks inside the Crimson Raiders HQ and felt super bad about it, considering that all of the other beds were occupied by either Raiders or the many homeless citizens of Sanctuary. Most of the vault hunters had called dibs on a few run-down, damaged houses of their own, though even those spaces were tight, especially since they often bunked with each other, like Krieg and Maya.

"I'm just bringing back two people. One's a child, the other's my," Athena hesitated, "girlfriend."

Lawrence's head shot up. "You're bringing Pickle back, too?" he asked, cracking a small grin. He hadn't seen that little brat in ages. He probably wasn't so little anymore.

Athena shrugged. "If he wants to. I doubt Janey would leave without him."

Lilith sighed. "Fine," she relented, "but if we need you before then, you drop everything and get your ass back here ASAP."

Athena frowned but didn't argue. She was gone later that night, sparing Lawrence a worried look - which he quickly put at ease, assuring her that he'd be fine - and a hug that he was loathe to release her from.

After that, the days trickled by slowly - as they should, considering one day on Pandora was almost ninety hours. Lawrence spent a great portion of those ninety hours tucked away within the Crimson Raiders HQ writing since his brain was starting to annoy him whenever it wasn't occupied by thoughts of fantasy worlds and sword-wielding warrior bears named Athena.

Occasionally someone would come bug him, usually Axton and Gaige in an attempt to get him to socialize (which he both appreciated and found annoying), though there were some new faces popping in to catch a glimpse of him as well. There was this little girl introduced to him as Tiny Tina, who was loud and strange but not entirely unpleasant to be around, especially since she knew immediately that he wasn't the real Jack and also shared his appreciation for tabletop games. She made him promise to join her and a few others later on for a game session or two. He got to meet another vault hunter, Salvador, who had apparently been off visiting his grandmother for a few weeks while all of this had been unfolding. The guy had been understandably wary of him until Lawrence had made his peace in his language, winning him over rather quickly. He met Dr. Zed, who may or may not have been a legitimate doctor, and Scooter, the town's mechanic, who was rude and obnoxious to him until Gaige smacked him and explained the situation. Only then did he stop swinging his fists and become halfway decent towards him.

As glad as he was to be making new friends that didn't want to kill him, it was exhausting trying to deal with the lot of them on a daily basis. Lawrence felt like he was always tired, no matter how much he slept (which was a lot) or how much he ate (which wasn't much), but in his defense, it was hard to swallow what tasted like mouthfuls of blood and ash. The crippling depression definitely had something to do with the exhaustion, but, as the days went on, Lawrence began to realize that there was something else dragging him down, something that was making it harder and harder to get up in the morning.

He was craving Eridium.

When the thought first occurred to him, he adamantly denied it, of course. The mineral had been poison to him, had permanently scarred and dyed his hands and eyes purple. He had figured that the reason for his shortness of breath and frequent pounding headaches had just been aftershocks from his detoxing, but they only seemed to be getting worse with each passing day. Something was drastically wrong with him, he realized, and the Jack part of his mind kept telling him it could all be fixed if he just got his hands on some Eridium.

No, he kept telling that awful, familiar voice. Why would he thirst for something so terrible? He remembered the pain of detoxing and definitely did not want to go through that again when the others found out.

_They wouldn't have to know_ , Jack told him. _All you'd need is a tiny little chunk of it - something so small they wouldn't even notice it was missing - and they'd never be able to tell the difference with you. They wouldn't know._

Lilith would, Lawrence thought. She could practically smell it.

_Why does she get to inhale the stuff anyway? How is that fair?_

I don't know.

_It's_ not _fair, dumb-dumb. You should be able to have some too. Just a pinch. A granule. Just one little piece._

Stop it.

_Just enough to make the pain stop! Don't you want that?_

Yes, but -

_You deserve it, kiddo. After all the bullshit you've been through, you deserve to have an itty bitty piece -_

"Enough," Lawrence gritted out.

"You say somethin'?" Gaige asked him from her spot across the room. The girl was decked out in a dirty baseball cap and a pair of even dirtier coveralls - her usual garb whenever she decided to tinker on something mechanical. Today's subject was Death Trap, who was perched on the workbench in front of her, patiently watching his master work on him.

Of course he'd have a mental breakdown on one of the days Gaige decided to join him in the workshop-slash-basement. "No," Lawrence said, quickly coming back to reality.

The ECHO recorder in his hands was still on; he had typed out half the conversation he'd just had with the voice in his head. He hurriedly deleted it and attempted to continue where the true story left off, but his hands had started shaking again, making typing all but impossible. His brain was buzzing with a multitude of unpleasant thoughts and sensations, so he probably wasn't going to get any more work done today.  
  
Lawrence sighed and flicked the device off. Lady Graypaw's journey to the Valley of the Great Yawn would have to wait for now.

"So this is where the party's at, huh?" came Axton's gruff voice from the staircase as he descended. His boots thumped loudly on each step, making Lawrence's headache pound worse, but the grin the commando wore on his face negated the irritation Lawrence felt. The too-small tank top that Axton was wearing in place of his usual combat jacket also might have had a hand in curing Lawrence of his saltiness.  
  
Lawrence quickly averted his gaze from the commando, ashamed. It wasn't often his mind drifted into those dirtier spaces; he'd spent so long being disgusted with his body that he couldn't even remember the last time he'd jacked off, for crying out loud. As raunchy as his thoughts were lately, though, his thirst for Eridium seemed to take precedence over everything else. God, he wanted it.

"Took you long enough," Gaige snarked at the commando, all sassy teenager. In front of her, Death Trap purred in agreement. "Did you bring some munchies? I'm starving."

"If you're that hungry, you should eat some legit food, you dweeb," Axton fired right back, but threw her a bag of chips anyway, beaning her in the noggin hard enough to knock her hat askew. He ignored her indignant sputtering and continued. "That freaky alien thing is back and I got distracted."

Lawrence slowly curled in on himself. He had almost forgotten about that damned thing. He hadn't seen it at all so far, but knowing it was around kept him more paranoid than he usually was.

"You got to speak to it?" Gaige asked, all but vibrating with excitement.

"Naw, it was with Lilith again," Axton grunted as he sidled up to the other workbench and tossed down his turret onto the floor next to it. It unfolded rapidly with a series of mechanical hisses and clanks; fully deployed, was so large that it nearly touched the ceiling.

"Of course," Gaige groaned, rolling her eyes as she went back to fiddling with the exposed wires in Death Trap's arm. Content, she flicked the small panel shut and gave it a good whack with her greasy hand to ensure it was sealed tight. "The 'impending war' or whatever. I'll believe _that_ when I see it. Hey Law, what can you tell us about this alien dude? You've seen it, right?"

Lawrence jerked, as did Axton, who apparently hadn't been aware of his presence until right then. The commando quickly recovered and flashed him a grin, which Lawrence tentatively returned.

"Tryin' to give an old man a heart attack, bro?" the commando teased, smacking his turret with a wrench that was as long as Lawrence's arm. The sound of metal hitting metal thudded in Lawrence's ribs. "Creepin' in the shadows like that. Man, we gotta get you out in the sun before you waste away in here."

"Sorry," Lawrence mumbled. Belatedly he realized that he was still sitting with his legs to his chest like a scared little boy and slowly uncurled himself, letting his long legs touch the floor again. "You're not old," he added. "I'm probably older than you are."

"Just 'cos some old geezer made you wear his face doesn't mean you're really that old."

Gaige cut the conversation off with a very loud, very pointed noise that was probably meant to resemble radio static.

"Gaige to Lawrence," she said monotonously. Though her back was still turned to him, Lawrence could see that she had one of her hands curled in front of her mouth, mimicking a walkie-talkie. "Come in, Lawrence. Do you have an answer to my question or are you gonna continue to avoid it? Over."

Lawrence frowned at the back of the girl's head and raised his own hand to his mouth. "Lawrence to Gaige," he intoned in between his own fake static noises, "I'm trying to flirt with this hot guy and you're cockblocking me. Requesting you back off. Over."

Across the room, Axton did a double-take at him before bursting into a fit of high-pitched cackling, which only caused Lawrence to start snickering, too, pleased that his joke hadn't been met with frowns and swinging fists. Gaige whirled around to face the two giggling men, gobsmacked but trying and failing to hide a grin nonetheless.

"You're assholes!" she exclaimed over their laughter. "And I totally knew you had the hots for Axton. Maya owes me twenty bucks."

Lawrence felt his face, or at least the parts not stained purple, turn red with embarrassment. He shouldn't have done that, joke or not. "I was...I was kidding," he said lamely.

"No you weren't," both hunters said without missing a beat. At least Axton was smiling, Lawrence reasoned, shrugging in defeat.

"Flirt later and answer my question now," Gaige said. "What's up with the alien dude?"

"It's called the Watcher. I only saw it once," Lawrence said quietly, quickly sobering up. "Back on Helios, when the Lost Legion had just invaded. It...it spoke to us. Defended Colonel Zarpedon. Then disappeared." He shrugged. "That's literally all I know about it."

Gaige frowned. "Lame."

"You're afraid of it," Axton said suddenly. There was no judgement on his face - just concern. "Why? You think it might try to hurt you if it sees you?"

Lawrence opened his mouth, but it took him a moment to actually gather his thoughts enough to speak. "I'm afraid," he began quietly, "that it'll look at me - at what Jack tried to turn me into - and see me as some sort of...I dunno, Eridium junkie reject and try to eliminate me or something. But maybe I'm just being paranoid. The Watcher hasn't hurt anyone yet. It saved Athena from being executed, so it can't be all bad, right?"

Axton scoffed quietly at that. "Right," he echoed sarcastically, tossing his wrench aside. It landed with a loud clatter on the workbench, making Lawrence wince and curl back up into his protective ball. "Well, I leave my baby in your hands, kid. Don't screw her up, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Gaige said, waving him off as the commando ascended the stairs. "You still owe me payment for the last session!"

"Put it on my tab!" he called back.

Gaige snorted. "Butthole," she groused, pulling herself up onto the barrel of the turret. She straddled it and leaned over to access a panel on the side of one of the guns. Lawrence couldn’t see what she was doing from his position, but it sounded like she was stripping something.

"Upgrade?" he chanced asking after a while, afraid of bugging her or breaking her train of thought.

"Right now it’s just a tune-up," she answered, sounding not at all distracted as she snapped down her welder’s mask and began to solder something. The smell of burning metal and rubber began to fill the room, making Lawrence gag. "Axton did ask me to put an AI into his turret a few days ago, though. Got inspired by Athena's story about that AI you needed for Jack's robot army."

Lawrence flinched at the memory of Felicity. He really hadn't wanted to force her consciousness into that constructor bot. He especially regretted it when she went rampant and tried to murder the whole lot of them. Not that he could blame her. He knew what that felt like now - having everything you ever were erased for someone else's gain. He too had made a last-ditch effort to save himself, to save Angel, when things had gotten desperate.

Lost to his sad memories, he woke to find himself staring down at the chunk of metal around his wrist - his digistruct watch. He hadn't turned his doubles on in a long, long time. He touched his hand to the metal and was suddenly struck by a crazy, potentially disastrous idea.

"Is that...easy to do?" he asked cautiously, peering up at the mechromancer. "Creating an AI?"

"Well, easy for geniuses like me," Gaige said, not even bothering to tone down the boasting. She flicked the welder’s mask back up as she turned to face him. There was a smudge of grease on her cheek that she scrubbed away with the back of her hand. "You gotta write the code and all that, which can take years if you're not a pro. I'm working on Axton's on and off. Jerkwad still owes me money, so I'm taking my time with it. Why do you ask?"

"I, uh," Lawrence bit his lip, "I have this program that I use to makes two holographic duplicates of me. Could you maybe give them personalities? Not - " he sucked in a semi-frantic breath, "not like Jack. Not even like me. Just...something. Like Death Trap. Still loyal but clearly has a personality all his own."

Death Trap cooed, pleased, while Gaige scratched her chin and hummed. "Bring 'em out," she ordered.

Lawrence typed in the code. The motion had become as reflexive as breathing over the years, so much so that Lawrence didn't even really notice that he was doing it until his doubles materialized on either side of him, one blue and about his height while the other towered over everyone, his transparent head almost scraping the ceiling. They stood there, silent and waiting for enemy movement.

Gaige hummed and tapped a dirty finger against her chin. "Pret-ty dull," she concluded. "I can fix that, though."

Lawrence's dry lips threatened to crack as he smiled. "Really? That - that'd be great. How much would I owe you?"

The mechromancer was already waving him off. "On the house."

"Really? But - "

"Look, you're cute, so that immediately gives you a discount. Combine that with the fact that I've been dying to dig around in some Hyperion tech that isn’t freakin’ Loader Bot hardware and, well, there ya go. You're happy, I'm happy." She held out her hand, waiting for him to fork over the watch.

With trembling hands, he unclasped it from his wrist, revealing the stained purple skin beneath it. He liked to imagine that his normal skin would have been several shades lighter, shielded by the sun by a watch he literally hadn't taken off since it was slapped on him years ago.

"Be careful with them," he blurted, dropping it into her palm. "They've helped me through a lot."

Gaige hummed and offered him a smile before gently setting the watch aside, away from all the sharp tools and potentially lethal weapons. "They're in good hands. Now, how are you doin'?"

He blinked at her, confused by the sudden subject change. "Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes," he lied, narrowing his eyes. "Gaige, what..."

"You _sure_ you're sure?" Gaige asked as Death Trap hovered up behind her. Before Lawrence could snap at her to leave it alone, Death Trap let out a metallic garble, swiftly followed by the crackle of static and then Lawrence's own recorded voice:

"I'm angry, and when I'm not angry I'm just - just - crippled with depression, and I know that sounds over-exaggerated, but that's how I feel, like I'm just - just drowning under all this stupid sadness and..."

Lawrence's jaw dropped. "You traitor," he groused, narrowing his gaze into a glare that he directed at the robot. "Remind me never to tell _you_ any secrets."

Death Trap trilled sadly and wilted.

"He's just worried," Gaige said, laying an appeasing hand on her fretting robot friend. "We all are. Don't be mad."

It was hard not to be, if he was being honest, but he didn't want to tell them that. At least _somebody_ cared about him.

"You should talk to Maya. She does the whole meditation thing every morning." Gaige shrugged. "I dunno how the hell anyone can sit like that for hours on end without fallin' asleep, but maybe it's something that can help you become more at ease."

Lawrence bit his lip. "I don't want to bug her."

"She wouldn't mind. She's worried about you too, y'know." The mechromancer cracked a toothy grin. "She hasn't gotten a chance to gush over those stupid Play of Butts books with you yet."

"Play of Chairs."

"Whateva'."

"Still. She's super pretty," Lawrence mumbled, feeling himself turning pink for the umpteenth time in twenty minutes. "How's a loser like me talk to a woman like that?"

Despite Maya proclaiming her interest in talking about Play of Chairs, he had been avoiding her since his haircut at her place. Gorgeous women made him nervous, and the last thing he needed on top of all his other ailments was to suffer another panic attack because he said something dumb in the presence of one - least of all one who could melt his brain if she so desired.

"Open your mouth?" Gaige suggested, frowning. "Maya's a person too, just like you and me - _hey_ , you can talk to me just fine! What, am I not super pretty? Wow, gee, thanks, asshole!"

Lawrence held his hands up in surrender. "You're pretty too, Gaige. But you remind me of one of my sisters."

"Goddammit!" She threw her hammer down in a fit of rage; it bounced off the floor and nearly beaned poor Death Trap in his eyeball-face. "First Axton, now you! Why do I remind everyone of their siblings? Is it the hair? Is it because I'm a ginger?"

"Hey, I'm a ginger - " Lawrence stopped dead, gaze immediately far away. "Timothy was a ginger."

"Well, you're shit out of lucky anyway," Gaige snapped, thankfully not noticing his little crisis. "Maya's asexual or whatever, so there'd be no wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am from her."

Lawrence frowned at her, slowly drifting out of his thoughts. "That's...fine? There's more to a relationship than having sex. Not that I wanted to have sex with her anyway. Or anyone, for that matter."

Gaige snorted and sent him a flat look. " _Really_? 'Cos the way you've been ogling Axton's ass nowadays indicates to me that you'd be more than happy to tap that."

Lawrence found himself unable to do more than stutter and choke out half-garbled excuses. "I - that's not - what - "

"Nuh uh, don't lie, girl! I saw you watching him go up those stairs. Not that I can blame you. That boy's got an ass that you can bounce nickels off of. I mean, jeez, he gives Moxxi a run for her money, and that girl's got a booty that won't quit, y'know?"

"I know," he muttered, glaring down at his knees. He had admired that woman’s booty a long time ago, among other things. That was before she tried to kill him and the others on Helios. Now he hadn't even set foot near her bar on the other side of town, fearful that she might try to finish what she started, Lilith's orders be damned.

"You _know_?" Gaige practically squealed, startling him out of his depressing thoughts. "Oh my god, so you _have_ been checking him out! And the flirting - it's genuine? Aha, I knew it! Maya really _does_ owe me money!"

Lawrence's jaw found its way back down to the floor again, but Gaige wouldn't let him speak to correct her.

"Dude, I got your back," she assured him, grabbing a spare chair and straddling it so she could face him. "I'll be your hit man. You and Axton will be bumpin' uglies this time tomorrow for sure! I guarantee it."

"I think you mean 'wingman'."

"Whatever. My promise still stands."

Lawrence shook his head, still trying to process Gaige's rapid-fire responses. "Just - why would he be interested in _me_ of all people? I look like a butchered version of the dude who tried to kill you guys. Frankly, I...I don't know why you even speak to me."

"Uh, because you're _not_ the dude who tried to kill us?" Gaige rolled her eyes. "We spent like, two months listening to this asshole taunt us over the ECHOnet. Believe me, you're nothing like him and we all know it. So try not to think like that anymore, okay?"

He resisted the urge to scoff. That was easier said than done.

To his surprise, Gaige reached over and took his massive, scarred hand in her greasy, tiny one. When he met her gaze, he found her looking sadly at him. "Go see Maya," she urged quietly. "She can help."

There was so much he needed help with. He couldn't keep track of it all.

_Gotta start somewhere_ , Timothy whispered to him.

That much was very true. Slowly Lawrence got to his feet and flashed Gaige a grateful, shy smile before darting up the stairs and out onto the streets of Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	21. Chapter 21

It was midday, Lawrence figured, blinking against the harsh sunlight pounding down on the little town. He hoped Maya would be at her house and not out on a mission for someone. He was on the move now and doubted he would have the mental capability or the guts to do so a second time if she wasn't home.

His palms were sweaty from nerves by the time he shuffled his way to Maya's doorstep. He was a little surprised to find the door open, no doubt in a desperate attempt to get some of the dry, hot air circulating in the otherwise windowless building. He knocked on the door frame before he dared poking his head into the room. Thankfully the blue-haired siren was perched in a chair next to her bed with a book in her hands - the latest edition of A Play of Chairs.

"Hello, Maya," he greeted, offering her a timid smile that she readily returned.

"Good afternoon, Lawrence. Do you need something?"

"Well..." he fidgeted for a moment before he spat out the rest of his thought. "Gaige told me you know a thing or two about meditation. Do you think - I mean, if it's not too much trouble..."

The siren flashed him another disarming smile. "Well, she sent you to the right person," she said, setting her book aside. "Why the sudden interest?"

"I think it might help me reign in my thoughts," he said quietly. "They've been...troublesome lately, to say the least. That and I've heard meditation's a good way to reduce stress." He had plenty of that nowadays.

"You'd be right."

Maya moved from the chair and flattened out the blankets on the small bed before she sat down on it. She patted the space next to her, and he hesitantly moved in, discarding his boots before joining her. She folded her legs and let her hands hang limply off her knees. He mimicked the pose, hesitant to shut his eyes just yet even though she had long closed hers.

They sat like that for a while, backs ramrod straight and chins slightly lowered. Maya's eyes were still closed as she slowly inhaled and exhaled - the very picture of someone in deep meditation. Lawrence, on the other hand, was beginning to get antsy. His clothes felt too tight and he was sweating in the slightly warm room. He was still wound up from the conversation with Gaige, too.

"Now what?" he whispered eventually, unable to stand the silence any longer.

"Just breathe."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Well, that was certainly easier said than done. Being quiet and just breathing left his mind wandering, namely towards all of the unpleasant memories that often plagued him whenever he actually managed to settle down.

"Shit," he whispered, shuddering.

"It's okay to let the thoughts and emotions come," Maya said suddenly, cracking open an eye to glance at him. "When I was a child still learning how to do this, one of the monks who raised me, Brother Harker, helped me understand that I am not my thoughts or emotions. I don't have to be afraid of them because they're not me, that I'm much bigger than anything I might think or feel."

Lawrence swallowed hard and rolled his shoulders back, trying to get serious. He sucked in a rapid breath and held it until he felt the blood pounding in his ears and his heart hammering in his chest. When he exhaled, he kept his mind on the feeling of all the air rushing out of him. He imagined his anxieties and pain being carried out on his breath. When he inhaled again, he focused on keeping all the negative energies he’d just expelled out. They weren’t him. Like Maya said - he was much more than these things. They were nothing.

This...wasn't so hard.

He was truly getting into it when the door to the room was flung open so hard that the entire building shuddered. Lawrence let out a yelp at the sight of Krieg standing in the doorway, huffing like he'd run ten miles through the scorching Pandoran desert.

"My bones are too juicy!" he declared before charging for the bed.

Lawrence braced himself, but he still had the air knocked out of him as the mutant flung himself on top of both him and Maya, pinning them to the bed with his massive arms. He expected a fight, maybe some more nonsensical shouting from the madman, but nothing happened. In fact, the dude wasn't moving at all anymore, save for the rising and falling of his spine as he breathed.

Lawrence lay there for a long time, eyes wide and heart racing in his chest. Any trance he might've fallen into was long gone now. "Um," he eventually questioned. "Maya?"

"Sorry," Maya said from the other side of the mutant, voice strained yet merry all the same. "Krieg'll go almost a week without sleeping and then crash for a few days. Guess this was just bad timing."

Lawrence grunted and wiggled out from underneath the guy’s arm. Krieg didn't even stir. “Well, uh, I think that’s my cue to head out,” he said, huffing out a breathy laugh. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”

“What are friends for?” Maya asked as she dislodged herself from the other side of Krieg.

After he donned his shoes, she walked him to the door and tugged on his sleeve before he could dart down the street.

"Meditation's like planting a seed," she explained softly. "You have to cultivate it, feed it, and give it the attention it needs to strive and grow. It only takes a few minutes, but those few minutes are extremely important. Sounds dumb, but it really does work like that."

Lawrence hummed in acknowledgement, downcast. He hoped he'd be able to keep up with it. A few minutes a day didn't seem too bad, especially when he didn't really have anything else to do, but nowadays he hardly had the motivation to roll out of bed let alone take the time to sit up and mentally prepare to meditate.

The corners of Maya's blue-painted lips twitched. "I do my own meditation early in the mornings, if you'd like to join me."

Lawrence's head snapped up. He couldn't help the grin that bloomed on his face. "Oh - okay, it's a date." He choked on his own saliva. "I-I mean, not - not like that - I'm - I'm gonna go now before I make an ass out of myself further 'kay bye."

He left the woman chuckling in the threshold while he practically sprinted down the street towards HQ. Despite the fact his face was flushed red from total and utter embarrassment, he couldn't keep the grin off of it. Maybe things were starting to look up for him. He could overcome this. There were people here willing to help him, and he had to remember that.

~

As the days trickled on, Lawrence realized that he should probably visit the town's doctor for a check-up. Maya was helping him work on his anxiety, but he was sure he had some physical issues that he should really, really get checked out.

The only problem was that the good Doctor Zed of Sanctuary didn't do this sort of thing out of the kindness of his heart. Lawrence needed money. Mercenary work was out of the question, and doing chores around the Crimson Raider's HQ would earn him brownie points with the crew but not enough cash to cover a doctor's visit.

Well, he thought through a sigh, there was one method guaranteed to bring in some cash, as loathsome as it was.

Soon enough, a gross-looking guy coming out of Moxxi's caught his glance and made his way over to the corner Lawrence had planted himself by not five minutes earlier.

"You lookin' for work, pretty boy?" he asked, sneering. His narrowed eyes roamed over Lawrence's body, and even though he was covered in layers, Lawrence still felt exposed. "I can give you somethin' to do if ya need some cash."

The innuendo in his tone left no question in Lawrence's mind what kind of work this creepazoid had in store for him if he accepted. Thanks to crippling student loan debt, he was pretty well-versed on how this sort of thing went.

"How much you got?" Lawrence asked the man.

"Three hundred."

Not unusual considering most of the folk around here were dirt-poor, but as someone who was used to getting at least five hundred for his effort, even on backwater planets like Eden, Lawrence almost turned his nose up at it. Three hundred could probably get him at least half a check-up at the doctor's. He needed it.

"Half now, half after," Lawrence said, folding his arms across his chest. "I don't swallow and we go at my pace."

The man let out a barking laugh of disbelief. "You gotta be kiddin' me! If I'm droppin' almost every penny I got on this, we do things my way, asshole!"

Lawrence sneered. "You get to fuck the mouth of Handsome Jack body doubles often? 'Cos this is a once in a lifetime opportunity, prick. Those are my terms. Take it or leave it."

The man's face twisted with irritation and anger, but he handed over half of his money. Lawrence counted it out, pleased, and gestured to the man to lead the way.

They didn't have to go far. Lawrence followed him to a small alleyway by the hostel that was sufficiently shielded from pedestrian view. The stains on the trash-covered ground led Lawrence to believe that this was where the majority of people went to do this sort of thing. He tried not to think about what kind of filth was seeping through the knees of his pants as he knelt down in front of the guy.

He kept it quick and professional - no special tricks, just enough to get the job done as fast as humanly possible. Despite not having done this in a while, at least in this kind of circumstance, Lawrence found that certain coping techniques still stuck. His body moved on auto-pilot while his brain entertained subplot ideas for his fantasy novel.

After the man came, Lawrence spat onto the ground next to the guy's shoe, making him squeal and recoil his leg in terror of his own semen. Lawrence rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet and held his hand out expectantly. He was afraid the guy might try to rip him off or pull a gun on him or something, but he gave up the rest of his cash without much resistance save for a sneer and a nasty promise:

"Everyone in town's gonna know that you get on your knees in back alleys for strangers."

"Cool," Lawrence snarked right back as he pocketed the money. The heavy stack of bills gave him the courage to continue with a threat of his own. "And then everyone's gonna know that you were thirsty enough to stick your dick in a dude who looks just like the guy who terrorized most of the planet. And you _paid_ for it! Who's more disgusting now?"

The man's expression fell, but Lawrence felt no satisfaction in getting the last word in. He made it to Scooter's garage before his stomach rebelled. He didn't vomit - he had long gotten past that stage of terror and self-loathing - but he did have to lean against the side of the building for a moment to steady himself.

 _You're disgusting_ , Jack said, tone dripping with resentment. _Getting on your knees for some bandit in an alleyway - what's_ wrong _with you?_

"You all right there, bro?"

Axton's rough voice made Lawrence jerk, but not out of fear. When he turned to face the commando, he felt, for the first time in years, true shame over what he'd just done. He couldn't hold Axton's gaze as he answered.

"I'm - I'm fine. Just...trying to psych myself up to go to the doctor's and get a checkup."

Axton made a face. "Zed'll make anyone nervous," he agreed. "Want my advice? Don't touch anything while you're in there, especially the floor. Or the walls. Just - keep your hands to yourself, unless you want a tetanus shot on top of anything else you might need."

Lawrence swallowed hard and began to reconsider. His terror must have been evident in his expression because Axton patted him on the shoulder and offered him a toothy smile.

"Don't get me wrong - the dude's good at what he does. Patched me up a good couple times no problem. Just try to get in and out of there as quick as possible."

"That's the plan," Lawrence muttered, turning back to the staircase. It was only half a dozen steps or so, but the trek seemed so much harder now.

"A couple of us gettin' together for drinks in a few," Axon said suddenly. "Wanna join us after your checkup?"

Lawrence's first instinct was to eagerly agree - hell, depending on how badly his checkup went, he might _need_ a few dozen beers in his system - but common sense made him hesitate. "At Moxxi's?"

"Nah, at Maya's." Axton jerked his head in that general direction. "Gaige wants to play some stupid girly drinkin' games or somethin', I dunno. I'm just showin' up to get shitfaced."

The idea was certainly appealing, but Lawrence was still cautious. "They, uh. Won't mind if I come?" he asked quietly.

"Nah, man! It's just the three of us, and you know we're all cool with you."

Axton flashed him a smile that left Lawrence blushing bashfully behind his scarf. "Okay," he agreed.

"Sweet! See you then."

The commando waved over his shoulder before disappearing down the street. Lawrence watched him go, his eyes drifting over the broad expanse of his shoulders, his shapely posterior, his thick thighs. For once, the uniform was actually helping to define his features.

 _Ask him what his exercise regiment is_ , Jack said, snickering. _Your noodle legs could stand to learn a thing or two._

"Hush," Lawrence muttered, turning to go inside.

He ducked under the threshold and immediately wanted to turn and run for the hills at the sight of Dr. Zed's infirmary. The place was splattered with blood in places - some fresh - and smelled like death. Lawrence felt like he'd just gotten six diseases just walking through the front door. Nurse Nina's place was a lot more welcoming, he thought, and she had chains and other questionable devices dangling from her ceilings.

"Dr. Zed, at your service," slurred a man that Lawrence hadn't seen from his spot behind the counter to his right. "Didn't mean to spook ya, kid. What can I do ya for?"

"I was wondering if I could get a check-up," Lawrence said quietly. He cleared his throat in an effort not to sound as scared as he felt and fumbled for his newly-acquired wad of cash. "I've got money."

Zed hummed and picked up the bills, seemingly content with the amount. "I think we can arrange somethin'. Follow me."

Lawrence carefully made his way across the infirmary, desperately trying not to slip on the old splotches of blood and other fluids that coated parts of the floor. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him when Dr. Zed gestured for him to sit on the moderately cleaner examining chair.

"I'm legally obligated to tell you that I don't have a medical license," the doctor said, further frightening Lawrence. "Not anymore. But don't you worry. You're in good hands. Now, take off all those layers, son. Can't take your blood pressure like that."

Lawrence could only nod, afraid to say anything, and began to disrobe down to his undershirt. As he folded his shirts and jacket and scarf and set them aside, he watched through wide eyes as Dr. Zed snapped on a pair of fresh gloves. When the man turned around to face him, he looked more menacing than Lawrence anticipated.

"Oh," Zed said, pausing only for a moment as his wide eyes roamed over Lawrence's features. "You're that boy the others brought in. The Jack lookalike."

Lawrence cringed. "Yes. Please don't kill me."

"Wouldn't dream of it, son," the doctor said through a chuckle. "At least, not until Lilith gave the go ahead. For now, I'm sworn to do no harm."

That sort of made Lawrence feel a little better. He sat still as Zed shined a small flashlight into his ears, then in his mouth. The doctor prodded at the space where his bicuspid used to be, but seemed satisfied that there weren't any issues. He flicked the flashlight around Lawrence's good eye, humming.

"Clean ears, no rot in your mouth or gums, decent eyes...well, eye." Zed inspected the glazed remains of his dead eye. "This hurt?"

"Not yet," he replied, trying not to flinch away from the doctor's fingers. "On Helios I had medication that helped with infection and whatnot. I don't think I'll find any of that stuff down here, huh?"

"Not without coughin' up a pretty penny or two. I like to think I'm a generous man, son, but I gotta eat too, y'know."

Lawrence hummed in understanding. The doctor's hands moved away from his eye and focused on the deep scar tissue that took up most of his face. Touching it didn't hurt him, but just having someone focusing so intently on it made Lawrence very uncomfortable, and it must have showed in his expression.

"This hurt? I mean, does it hurt when I touch it? Obviously it hurt when it happened." Zed tsked angrily.

Lawrence shrugged. "I can't really feel most of my face. Which I guess I should be grateful for."

"If Sanctuary starts hoverin’ over the Frozen Wastes, you're gonna be aching," Zed warned, finally pulling his hands away. "Any cold, damp weather's gonna make this thing one huge pain in the neck and head - literally. I can probably rustle up some aspirin for you when that happens, but for the most part, you're gonna have to curl up somewhere dark with a heating pad and wait it out."

That was something Lawrence hadn't thought of. They were still hovering over the Highlands, as far as he knew, so the weather had been pretty decent, but he knew at some point they’d pack up shop and head somewhere colder, maybe wetter. He’d just have to start stocking up on aspirin before then and hope for the best.

Zed tilted his head at him. "Anything else botherin' you before we wrap this up?"

Lawrence bit his lip. "Is it, um, possible to get tested?" he asked quietly, afraid to meet the doctor's face. "Just...just to be on the safe side? Or - I guess I’d need more money for that."

Zed hummed and arched a fuzzy brow. "Where did you get the money for the check-up, son?" he asked.

"I earned it." That much was true, and he wouldn't say anything more about it.

Apparently he didn't have to. Ten minutes, one swab of his mouth, and a blood sample later, Zed had everything he needed to test him for the multitudes of diseases and illnesses the galaxies harbored.

"It'll take a few days for the results to come back," he told him. "You want me to send an ECHO or will you stop by in, say, three days?"

Lawrence nodded and slid off the chair. "I’ll stop in. Thanks a lot, sir."

They shook hands, and Lawrence set off for Maya's. Despite not knowing the results of his tests yet, he felt clean, he noted. He knew there was a pretty decent chance that he'd contracted something, if not during that one time Jack had stuck his tongue down his throat, then some time after Jack had stuck that fucking collar on him and erased almost two years from his life, but he tucked those morbid thoughts into the back of his mind, determined not to let them drag him back down. He was, for now, mostly healthy.

There was a bounce in his step that hadn't been there before, and he found himself humming as he made his way down the street. His mood only lifted when he knocked on Maya's door and was greeted by a chorus of half-drunken yells and raised glasses.

“Welcome to the party house!” Gaige exclaimed, rushing over to throw herself around his middle in a staggering hug that almost knocked him back out the door. “No sober people allowed. Drink up, dork!”

Axton handed him a bottle of rakk ale as he came over to where he and Maya sat at the foot of the bed. “All good?” he asked, referring to the visit to Doctor Zed.

“All good,” Lawrence echoed, grinning.

“A toast to good health, then!” the commando declared, lifting his own bottle towards the ceiling. The others followed suit with cries of their own, and as the clinking of bottles filled the room, Lawrence felt truly at home for the first time since he left Eden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	22. Chapter 22

In school, Lawrence had been too much of a tabletop game-loving dweeb to get invited to a lot of parties. He knew of the kind of shenanigans that could happen, especially when alcohol was involved, but had never experienced it for himself, even in college when nobody gave a shit what you did on the weekends outside of classes.

Now, as he sat among his half-drunk friends playing silly grade school level drinking games, he honestly regretted never attempting to get involved. With a stomach full of warm liquor, he was having a wonderful time learning about all of the lewd, gross things these people had done throughout their lives. That wasn’t sarcasm.

"Never have I ever taken it up the butt," Gaige said. "Yet."

Numerous eyerolls were had and shot glasses raised. Lawrence knocked back his and was surprised that Axton followed suit. Hadn't he had a wife? Maybe he was into some of the kinkier stuff like Jack and Nisha had been, he mused, feeling himself turn red. It was none of his business anyway.

"My turn," Axton said, cracking a cocky sneer in Gaige's direction. "Never have I ever pissed my pants in public."

"Stinker," Gaige hissed as she took a shot.

Lawrence almost failed to do the same; the only incident he could remember was right after Jack had tricked him into thinking he was about to be jettisoned out an airlock. He managed to swallow his drink without vomiting, but only just. He must have looked as bad as he felt, Lawrence realized, because when he caught Axton's gaze, he watched as reality dawned on the soldier, making his already concerned expression flicker into a look of horror.

It was touching that he even realized there was a problem. Lawrence flashed him a genuine "don't worry about it" smile that slowly eased the tension out of the other man.

"Never have I ever accidentally shot myself in the foot,” Lawrence offered. He hadn’t quite graduated to the types of questions his friends were asking, but nobody had nagged about it yet.

"Not fair," Axton muttered right before downing another shot.

"Stop being such a deviant, then," Maya said primly. Before Axton could ask her how the hell shooting himself in the foot made him a deviant, she continued. "My turn: never have I ever been to an orgy."

The house’s occupants sputtered out laughs as Lawrence knocked his glass back. When he opened his eyes and addressed the rest of the room, he was embarrassed to find that all eyes were on him. No one else had taken a shot.

"Details!" Gaige howled, pointing at him. "That's the rule! If only one person drinks, they gotta cough up the juicy details! Spill it, T-Law!"

Lawrence's face turned an even darker shade of red as he attempted to disappear into the folds of his jacket. "It...it was at a party on Helios," he muttered. "Back when I worked for Jack. He never told me what kind of party it was until we got there and everyone was naked and...doin' stuff."

Gaige was grinning like a cat that got a canary. "And did you... _do stuff_ too?"

He nodded, then shrugged. "Sort of? I had to keep an eye on Jack so he didn't get completely shitfaced, but I did, um...partake. In some of the stuff." It was clear that no one in the room was going to let him get away with sharing so little. "I might've blown a dude and fingered a chick, okay? _God_ , you people are randy."

Gleeful, drunken cackles escaped the room’s other occupants, but Lawrence didn't feel ashamed. Maybe it was just the booze, but he was feeling more than a little relaxed in the company of his new friends.

Gaige refilled everyone’s shot glasses, spilling a substantial amount all over the floor in the process. “Never have I ever given oral,” she said, sounding remorseful. “ _Yet_.”

Lawrence froze again, thinking back to the man he went down on in exchange for money only a few hours earlier. He quickly downed his shot, grateful for the burning it left in his throat, and avoided looking at everyone until Maya prompted Axton to take his turn.

“Never have I ever broken a bone,” Axton offered, then immediately took a shot.

Everyone else followed suit with explanations: Maya had sprained her wrist as a child struggling to use her powers, Gaige had literally chopped her arm off, so she figured that had to count for something, and Lawrence had broken and sprained numerous appendages throughout his brief vault hunting career.

“I beat all you losers,” Axton proclaimed proudly, half-slurring his words. “Stepped on a landmine on Themis a few years ago. Broke almost every bone in my body, liquefied half of my organs, got this baby from a stray shrapnel piece," he flicked the jagged scar across his chin, "and almost lost my leg. Honestly I'm surprised I didn't lose both."

His story left a chilling silence in the room; to say that it brought the party down was an understatement. Lawrence swallowed the booze in his mouth and coughed as part of it went down the wrong pipe.

“And you’re proud of this...why?” Maya asked, torn between looking concerned and disgusted.

“‘Cos I survived it! I mean, yeah, I was in a coma for, like, three months while they rebuilt me, but how many people do you know who survived steppin’ on a D-46 Hidden Dragon? None! ‘Cos it doesn’t happen.”

Gaige was gaping at him. “You never told me this!”

“It never came up,” he said simply, then spread his arms and puffed out his chest like the smug little bastard he was. “That’s right, ladies and dude, you are in the presence of a living legend!”

“Oh, we’re in the presence of something all right,” Maya muttered, shaking her head. “Lawrence, it’s your turn. Please pick something that will deflate our friend’s ego before it swallows the planet.”

Axton flicked the remnants of his drink at her, and in retaliation she sent him sprawling onto his back with a flick of her wrist and a flash of purple. "Ow!"

"Never have I ever," Lawrence began, pursing his lips as he thought, "smoked ajate?"

Everyone but Lawrence took a shot, leaving him feeling like a stick in the mud. He had never dabbled with it in college even though it had been in ample supply, and he had always been too afraid to try it while he was on Helios because of his meds. Even when Jack had forced him to partake, that hadn’t been among his arsenal. Jack had never bothered with the “weaker” stuff.

"We are going to remedy this," Axton told him, slamming his empty glass down so Gaige could refill it. "Not now, though. Ajate and alcohol's a bad combination."

"As Axton knows from first hand experience," Maya said, sneering. "Which brings me to: never have I ever puked and shat my pants from drinking and smoking."

"Aw, c'mon!" Axton exclaimed, pausing only to knock back a shot. "Now I _know_ you're just lookin' to get me drunk off my ass so you can take advantage of me!"

“Oh please,” the siren scoffed, “as if we’d have to.”

Axton narrowed his gaze at her. “What’re you sayin’?”

“I mean, you’d flirt with Krieg if he understood any of your lame pickup lines,” Gaige tossed out as Maya snickered beside her.

"Whoa, hey, _lame_? Man, flirting is an art - an art that I just so happen to excel at. Watch. Hey, Law."

Lawrence swayed back to reality just in time to watch Axton scoot closer to him. Though clearly just as drunk as his comrades, Axton still managed to look charming as he flashed him a lovely, smarmy smirk and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Nice legs," he purred, blatantly looking down at Lawrence's crotch. "What time do they open?"

Lawrence couldn't help the sputtering laugh that left him. "Really? _That’s_ what you give me?" he asked, grinning. "Sorry, but that won't get you in my bed, man. I hung around Handsome Jack for a living, ‘member?"

The sassy smirk dropped off Axton's face. "Oh really? And I suppose you can do better?" he quipped, sitting back to fold his arms across his broad chest.

Lawrence hummed, knocked back another shot for courage, then proceeded to crawl forward on his hands and knees towards Axton. The irritation in the commando vanished in the blink of an eye as Lawrence gingerly pulled himself into his lap and coiled his arms loosely around Axton's neck. He met Axton's wide gaze with his own.

"Is this seat taken?" he asked lowly. His words came out in a puff of hot air against Axton's lips. Belatedly he realized his breath probably smelled like stale booze.

"Uh," Axton choked out, momentarily stunned to silence. He looked torn between appearing eager and completely confused, and he didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, as they hovered in the air on either side of Lawrence. “Uh.”

"I thought you were attempting a pickup line, not flat-out seduction," Maya mused, smirking.

Lawrence shrugged and dislodged himself from Axton's lap with as much grace as he could. "Isn't the end game the same either way?" he asked.

Gaige, who had been grinning wolfishly at the two men, snapped out of it and slapped Maya's arm, frowning. "Why'd you interrupt them?" she hissed. "We could've witnessed some hot dude-on-dude grindage!"

Lawrence felt his face turning red as he scooted back to his seat. He shot a glance at Axton and found the man still frozen in place, a gobsmacked expression on his handsome mug. "Sorry," he told him, wincing and hating himself for not asking permission before crawling into the man's lap. "I-I hope I didn't overstep any boundaries."

Axton snapped out of it with a rapid set of blinks and shake of his head. "Nah, dude, I just didn't expect somethin' like that from you," he said, finally cracking that toothy, pleased grin that made Lawrence's stomach do somersaults. "Where'd you learn it?"

"ECHOnet," Lawrence said with a shrug and a bashful smile. It was partially true. He had also witnessed Nisha pull the same trick with Jack early on in their relationship, and Jack's reaction had been more or less the same as Axton's, at least for a few seconds.

"Well, color me impressed."

"And me bored," Maya said, rolling her eyes. "Are we still playing Never Have I, or should we leave you two alone to exchange flirting tips?"

Axton stuck his tongue out at her and flicked over his empty shot glass. "Let's play somethin’ else. With less thinkin’ involved, preferably."

"How 'bout Seven Minutes?" Gaige suggested. That suspicious, shit-eating grin was back on her face. She’d been wearing that a lot lately, Lawrence noted, but especially when both he and Axton were present. "If you play it right, there isn't a lot'a thinkin' involved in that at all."

"What's Seven Minutes?" Axton asked.

"You and someone else get locked in a closet together for seven minutes," Gaige explained. She waggled her eyebrows. " _Any_ thing can happen in those seven minutes."

Axton looked ready to shoot down the idea until she tacked on the last bit. His eyebrows shot up as a small "oh" slipped past his lips. As drunk as Lawrence was, he didn't miss the fact that the commando's eyes snapped to his for a brief moment.

Apparently, neither did the room's other occupants. "Axton, you spin the bottle to see who winds up in the closet with you," Gaige said, putting the empty rakk ale glass into the center between them.

The commando frowned, but leaned over to give the thing a spin regardless. He spun it too hard the first time, sending the damn thing bouncing off Maya's shoes, much to everyone's amusement. The second spin was more successful.

Lawrence blinked, confused. He could've sworn he saw a flicker of purple right before the bottle stopped, but he chalked it up to being drunk. It took him a second to even realize that the rim of the bottle was pointed at him.

"Have fun, boys!" Gaige cackled, snagging Axton by the arm the same time Maya hauled Lawrence to his feet.

Suddenly Lawrence was on his ass in the tiniest closet he'd ever seen. It certainly didn't help matters that half of it was taken up by Axton, whose muscle mass took up about as much room as Lawrence's gangly limbs. The door was slammed shut, plunging them into darkness as they struggled to work out a comfortable way to sit.

"Hi," Axton said from somewhere across from him.

Lawrence couldn't see his face, which, in his warped state of mind, actually managed to frighten him slightly. Suddenly the air was too thick, the walls too close. He could almost feel it, how close he was to toppling into those unpleasant memories of the time he spent alone, cold and blind within The Holding Cell on Helios all those years ago.

Axton’s hand managed to snag his and bring it to his face. "Right here, bro," he said through a laugh that Lawrence felt even in his nerve-damaged hand. "Maybe we should’ve slowed down on the shots."

Lawrence exhaled, thoroughly distracted from his thoughts now as his thumb brushed against the chevrons attached to Axton's brow. He wondered if it was just his flesh that was pierced or if it went straight through to his skull. Either way, it looked painful.

"Do these hurt?" he asked.

"Only when it's cold," the commando replied easily. "And when it's hot. When I blink or wiggle my eyebrows. Basically all the time, yeah."

"Oh," Lawrence said sadly, withdrawing his hand. His arm flopped like a limp noodle onto his lap. "Sorry."

"Eh, it was part of the job description."

"Did you join Dahl?"

Axton snorted quietly. "Ain't that easy,” he said. “Most of us are born into the profession. Somethin' about producin' the perfect soldiers through specific DNA or whatever. You'd have to be super badass to get accepted, like my dad."

Lawrence perked up at the mention of Axton’s father. "Oh?" he prompted, urging the commando to go on. He didn’t know much about anyone in Sanctuary aside from Gaige, and even then she only mentioned Eden-6 that one time. If there was anyone he was interested in learning about, it was definitely Axton.

"Yeah! He was boss as shit." Axton shifted, trying and failing to find a place to stretch out his long, thick legs. "Died in the line of duty, but that's usually how it goes when you're a part of Dahl. If you ain't dead by fifty, you've got some explainin’ to do."

"Sounds...sad," Lawrence said through a sigh. Everything on this side of the galaxy was sad. He was sick of it. "Is that why you left Dahl?"

"Well, I was born with a thirst for fortune and glory. And my rugged good looks and charm," he added. Lawrence didn't have to see his face to know the man was wiggling his eyebrows despite the pain and flashing that dazzling smile. "I was fine growin' up an army brat. Thought bein' a soldier would satisfy that thirst, but I got sick of followin' orders. The pay wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, even as I got promoted. Shit was just borin', and when I tried to liven it up a bit, play by my own rules, they threatened to demote me. Eventually, I did some shit that got me into a corner I almost couldn’t get out of. Now I'm here, doin' what I wanna do, whenever I wanna do it, and it’s fuckin’ great."

Lawrence hummed, pleased that Axton didn't seem to have any regrets abandoning Dahl. "I'm glad you're not dead," he slurred through a yawn.

Axton sputtered out a laugh. "Well, thanks. So am I. Never would'a gotten the chance to hang out with you in a closet for seven minutes if I'd crapped out on a shitty battlefield somewhere, huh?"

Lawrence huffed out his own little laugh and let his lolling head come to rest on the wall. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open at this point. He was warm and safe with a belly full of booze and a hot man practically sitting in his lap.

"You know, they expected us to suck face in here," Axton said after a while. He sounded almost wistful on top of drunk.

"This was nice, too," Lawrence murmured sleepily. "S'gotta be over seven minutes by now."

Axton grunted and slammed his fist on the door, rattling it and jerking Lawrence back into the conscious world. "Okay, ladies, you've had your fun! And so have I," he added, snickering as Lawrence kicked him. "Let us out."

Silence met their ears. Axton called for them again and beat his fist on the door, but nobody answered.

"Did they leave?" Lawrence asked quietly. If they weren’t let out soon, he’d either pee his pants or fall asleep. Possibly both, at the same time.

"They'd better not've." Axton jerkily rose to his feet, trying to be mindful of where Lawrence was, and rammed his shoulder against the door. The thing creaked in protest, but didn't give. "Hold onto your butts."

"I only have one butt - "

Lawrence flinched as Axton hurled his entire body against the door, splintering it off its hinges. As much as a turn-on as that display of power was, Lawrence couldn't help the peal of high-pitched giggles that escaped him when he peered through the threshold and saw Axton lying face-down on top of the remains of the door.

"Oww," Axton whined, rolling slowly back and forth in pain.

Still giggling, Lawrence cast a quick look around the room and only laughed harder at the sight of Gaige and Maya passed out on the floor by the bed, surrounded by all of their empty shot glasses. “Looks like they partied too hard,” he wheezed in between chuckles.

“Man, we could’ve died in there,” Axton snapped, only to pause and flash Lawrence a cheeky grin from his spot on the floor. “What a way to go, though, eh?”

Lawrence rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep his own smirk off his face. "Maya's gonna be pissed you broke her closet door," he pointed out.

"I ain't payin' for this! S'what they get for fallin' asleep on us!"

As Axton fumbled with the remnants of the door, Lawrence swayed his way over to Maya's couch. Had he been sober, the rough material and questionable stains might have caused him to hesitate, but all he wanted right now was to get some shut-eye. He collapsed face-first onto the semi-squishy cushions and attempted to let out a content sigh, but it all came whooshing out of him alongside a pained grunt when he suddenly found himself crushed beneath Axton's weight.

"Why?" Lawrence groaned, voice muffled by the cushion his face was currently smushed into. "Party's over, you - you prick-ass prick."

"S'not over 'til I say it's over," Axton declared from over Lawrence’s shoulder. "On your feet, soldier!"

He smacked at the commando halfheartedly, whining, before he finally managed to shove the load off of him. Axton refused to let him win, however, and snagged the back of his jacket as he rolled away, pulling him onto the floor with him.

They tussled for a bit, rolling over the spilled booze and shot glasses as they slapped and smacked and roughhoused with each other like little boys, until finally Axton got the upper hand and pinned Lawrence to the ground with a triumphant shout. Their giggles began to cease when, with rather startling sobriety, they both realized what position they’d landed themselves in.

Lawrence stared up at Axton, wondering if the man was going to make a move. The drunken part of him desperately wanted him to, but the little sober voice in the back of his head was cautioning him about it. Something about regretting it in the morning. But that wasn’t possible, he wanted to argue. Who would regret making out with a man who looked like a friggin' god?

Axton moved an inch closer, then another. His eyes weren’t open anymore, and Lawrence could feel his own drifting shut in anticipation of a kiss from the man.

It never came, unless Axton’s lips dragging down the side of Lawrence’s face as he passed out counted for something. The commando came to rest draped over Lawrence, head nestled into the crook between Lawrence’s neck and shoulder.

Lawrence lay there for a while, listening to Axton breathe and trying to figure out what to do. Eventually he decided to hell with it; he managed to scoop himself and Axton off the floor and dump the commando in Maya’s bed. He put Maya on the couch and opted to leave Gaige on the floor with a pillow tossed on top of her head as punishment for being a terrible wingman.

For a moment he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was debating on attempting to drag his drunk ass back to HQ when Krieg kicked in the front door, yowling about meat and nipple salads.

“Krieg, hush,” he slurred, gesturing to the sleeping crew around them. “It’s nap time.”

The behemoth tilted his head as he looked around at his comatose teammates, then charged Lawrence, scooping him up so fast that he didn't have time to utter anything beyond a wheeze as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Krieg hurled his ass down onto the bed next to Axton, then swan-dived on top of them. Axton let out a pained noise as Krieg’s forearm dug into his neck, but otherwise didn't stir.

"We have to stop meeting like this,” Lawrence groaned, pushing and shoving at Krieg’s arm until it wasn’t bearing down on his throat. He fell back in a huff, eyelids drooping. “Guess I'm staying the night.”

Warm and safe, he was out before he could hear Krieg's nonsensical response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	23. Chapter 23

"For the last goddamned time, Brick, you can't just punch your way to victory in a tabletop game!" Lilith howled, slamming her fists onto the table in front of her. The game pieces jumped and toppled over with a clatter. "This kinda thing takes precision and planning and knowing that your character isn't even equipped to throw punches of that kind of caliber!"

The berserker just shrugged. "Lady Ashbeard likes punchin’ things."

"She's a siren! With the ability to control animals!"

Brick just shrugged again. "Still likes punchin' stuff."

"He rolled a twenty," Tina pointed out. "Lady Ashbeard can wham-bam as much as she likes with that kind of powa'."

Brick grinned triumphantly and brought his fists together so hard Lawrence's knuckles ached in sympathy. "Lady Ashbeard punches the tree goblin!"

"The tree goblin explodes!" Tina wailed, throwing her skinny arms up dramatically. "Parts of him - _flaming parts_ \- fly off and slam into his comrades, splitting their skulls and rupturing their organs and setting their ragged clothes aflame! Dark green blood oozes from their eye sockets, ears, and mouths from the trauma! The smell of burning tree goblin flesh fills the nighttime air!"

Mordecai made a face. "Uh. Ew."

"I second that statement," Lawrence mumbled.

The siren heaved a loud, angry sigh before rising to her feet and storming out of the room. She almost slammed into Gaige on the way out, startling the poor mechromancer enough to make her jump backwards out of the way.

Lawrence blinked down at his fallen commando and poked the figurine with a stained finger. "I guess we're done for today, then?" he asked, picking his head up to look at Tina for confirmation.

The young BM sighed. "I guess we'll put the journey on pause until Lilith gets her panties unbunched."

"I heard that!" the siren snarled from the other room.

Tina cleared her throat and rose to her feet, briefly solemn. "The journey continues another day. Will our heroes make it out of the Forbidden Forest? Will the sorcerer Goodwyn ever get it on with the handsome knight Sir Axel the Brave?"

Lawrence's face turned pink. "Goodwyn doesn't want to get it on with - "

"How many critical punches will Lady Ashbeard dish out on those poor, unsuspecting tree goblins?" Tina continued, practically shrieking now.

"All the punches," Brick said.

Mordecai sighed, took a deep swig from his bottle of rakk ale, and then went to join Lilith in the other room. Brick moved to follow with Tina quickly bringing up the rear. Gaige waited until everyone had filed out of the room before she darted in and plopped down into the chair diagonally across from Lawrence.

"Jeez. Lilith mad she lost or what?" she asked, snatching Brick's figurine off the table to examine it. There was grease all over her hands, Lawrence noted. Brick would hit the roof the next time he saw his beautiful siren figure all scrunged up.

"She's stressed out," he answered quietly. He had suggested the idea to Tina earlier that day to set up a Bunkers and Badasses scenario to help Lilith unwind a bit, but all it seemed to do was make her angry, no thanks to Brick and his affinity for punching things, even vicariously through imaginary characters. "All this war business combined is running her ragged."

"I'm surprised you're defending her," Gaige said, arching a brow at him. "She hasn't exactly been nice to you."

He shrugged. "I've been here for nearly a month and she hasn't tried to kill me yet. I figure that's good enough cause to give her some slack." Plus he had gotten his test results back from Dr. Zed the other night and had been in a good mood up until a few minutes ago.

"Point." Gaige tossed the figurine back onto the table. "You done geeking out for the day?"

"For now," he replied. "Maya and I are gonna talk Play of Chairs later if you'd like to stop in and taunt us about that." Over the last couple of days he had gotten a chance to catch up on one out of the two novels that had come out while he'd been indisposed, so he was itching to fanboy over it with Maya, Gaige's mocking be damned.

"It's a date," she replied, grinning as she began to fumble with one of the many pockets on her coveralls. "So, the whole reason I've even surfaced from the workshop is 'cos I have a surprise for you."

She withdrew her hand and revealed his watch, somehow miraculously untouched by the grease and grime coating every other inch of her.

Excitement bubbled in his chest as he grabbed it. "You did it?" he asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

"Well, I'm still working on it," she said, watching as he put it on his wrist and fumbled with the latch. Eventually she reached over and helped him fasten it. "So far I've managed to give one of the digital dudes somewhat of a personality. I thought I'd be able to use the code already installed and just jiggle things around, but it turns out that there isn't much of a code to work with. I had to write one while simultaneously incorporating the old one."

As she spoke, Lawrence's elation deflated. "I'm sorry," he said sadly, frowning down at the device. "I didn't think it would be that hard."

"Did I say it was?" Gaige asked, grinning. "Nah, it's just more challenging. And lucky for you, I never say no to a challenge. Now go on, give it a whirl, I need to see what needs adjusting."

He typed in the code, summoning both digi-Jacks, one badass and another normal-sized. The orange badass didn't move, frozen as its sensors sought out any form of threat, while the the blue digital man's posture was one of confusion. Its body flickered as it turned around to face Gaige and Lawrence. If Lawrence flinched at the sight of a younger Jack’s face on the digital copy, Gaige didn't notice, or at the very least, chose not to comment on it.

"Hey, friends," the copy said in a stilted, Jack-ish voice. There was a grin on its digital face that made up for its overall appearance. "Are there things that are happening?"

"Uh," Lawrence stuttered, "not - not like, combat or anything - "

"Later we'll take stuff and do it, right?"

Lawrence stared at the digital him for a long moment before turning to Gaige, puzzled. "Um...?"

The girl genius scratched her head. "Oh- _kay_ , so the entire code needs some tweaking. Stupid Hyperion tech crap's either too complicated or not detailed enough, ugh."

As she spoke, the copy turned to stare at the other digital copy and sized him up. The way it - he? - tilted his head and walked in circles around it made Lawrence think of a curious puppy investigating a brand new, semi-threatening thing.

"Where does the continuing of things which goes again?" the copy asked them, pointing a transparent finger at the badass. The guy looked startled and excited all at once, like he too wanted to be a badass. It was beyond cute, if Lawrence was being honest.

"Someday, buddy," Lawrence told him, smiling. "Maybe the next time I summon you. Right now I'm gonna turn you off, okay?"

The copy studied him for a moment, then echoed his grin. "To have said goodbye to things," he said, lifting a transparent arm to wave at them before he flickered out of existence.

Lawrence turned to Gaige as his smile morphed into a toothy grin. "Can you leave him that way? It's kinda endearing, don't you think?"

"Sure, if you wanna be confused on the battlefield," Gaige muttered, gesturing for him to hand his watch over. "But whatever, he's your...dude. Ooh, you gotta name him."

Lawrence hummed, thoughtful. "Why not just Blue?"

She stared at him, heavily unimpressed. "Seriously? The creative writing major's gonna name his blue digital copy _Blue_? You might as well name them Copy Number One and Copy Number Two, for fuck’s sake!"

"Language," Axton barked from the doorway, startling both of them. The commando was distracted as he strode into the room, his head turned halfway to observe the yelling and occasional sound of breaking glass from the other room across the hall. "Did somebody die? Everyone's out there lookin' like it," he grumbled, practically collapsing into the chair closest to Lawrence.

"Just a bunch of tree gnomes," Gaige muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Goblins," Lawrence corrected, earning a glare and a raspberry from the mechromancer, which he returned.

"Wha?" Axton blinked wearily at the two of them, then caught sight of the game board laid out on the table and groaned. "Oh, for the love of - I don't understand how y'all can just sit here pretendin' to shoot shit with fake shit. Sounds borin' as hell. Just go out and kill some real shit."

"It's called using your imagination," Lawrence told him, sniffing. "Not that you gruff army types know anything about that."

Axton smirked and leaned forward in his seat. "Oh, I can use my imagination," he said lowly, practically purring. "I've been usin' it a lot lately."

"Oh?" Lawrence bit his lip in a desperate attempt not to smile. "No eyebrow wiggle to go with that innuendo?"

Axton leaned in closer and slowly wiggled his brow in a way that was probably meant to be seductive. Lawrence feigned swooning, which set both men off into a bunch of immature cackling while Gaige groaned beside them.

" _Barf_!" she yelled to the heavens. "Go be losers somewhere else, please!"

"I was here first," Lawrence pointed out. "You can vacate the premises if our epic gay love is too much for you to handle."

On cue, Axton draped himself over Lawrence’s shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. As if that wasn’t enough, he made the most obnoxious sounding kissy noise Lawrence had ever heard, which set both of them off on another peal of high-pitched giggling. Gaige rolled her eyes so hard she almost fell out of her seat.

"I actually wanted to ask you somethin'," Axton said to Lawrence, slowly slipping back into soldier mode as their giggles died down. "We got a call from Ellie, Scooter's sister, about a Hyperion caravan that's gonna be makin' it's way through the Dust near her garage in a few days. Wants us to intercept it, steal their goods - y'know, the usual. Do you wanna come with me and Maya and Krieg?"

Lawrence felt his jaw drop slightly at the very idea of actually getting to leave Sanctuary, if only for a few days. And what's more, he'd be with people he could actually tolerate and talk to. "Yes," he breathed, cracking a smile. "That - I - yes, that'd be awesome."

Axton grinned, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "Awesome," he echoed.

"Ooh, I wanna go!" Gaige exclaimed, waving her hand in the air. "I haven't shot anything in days! Pick me!"

"Nope, sorry," Axton told her as he sat back in his chair, making the old thing squeak in protest. "Lilith wants you here working with Scooter on Sanctuary's floaty-hovery-technology or whatever. The thing that makes it fly. Apparently it needs one hell of a tune-up."

" _What_?" she practically shrieked. Her face was turning red with rage as she slammed her hands down on the table, further disrupting the already-disrupted game. "When the fuck did I get demoted from vault hunter to mechanic?"

"Language."

"Axton, I swear to god - "

He threw his hands up in surrender. "Hey, don't take it out on me, kid! I don't make the rules here. If you wanna complain, take it to Lilith."

Of course Lilith chose that moment to shout something from the other room. A split second later there came the sound of something breaking, followed by the muffled words and shouts from Brick and Mordecai. Hopefully Tina wasn't still with them, Lawrence thought, biting his lip. The last thing that poor kid needed was to witness her second family crumbling apart.

Gaige huffed wetly and glowered at the wall in a desperate attempt to keep from crying. "Figures," she muttered, dragging a hand across her nose.

"We'll go out and pop some bandit heads soon," Axton promised, reaching over to tousle her hair.

She slapped his arm out of the air with a viciousness that took both men aback. "Stop _babying_ me! I'm not a kid!" she snapped, then turned and stormed out of the room before they could stop her.

Lawrence watched her go, numb and worried. Gaige had her moments, sure, but he'd never seen her this upset before. "Is she okay?" he asked, turning his wide-eyed gaze to the commando.

Axton leaned his elbows on his knees. "Are any of us?" he countered wryly through a heavy sigh. He brought his hands up to his face and steepled them over his nose, his eyes shut and brow furrowed with what looked like pain. "It's rough for everyone here. Most of us are used to this type of violent bullshit and get by all right. Don't get me wrong - Gaige can definitely hold her own - but she's still just a kid. No family to turn to - hell, nobody near her age to just chill and be teenagers with. I do what I can for her, but sometimes that ain't enough and she just breaks."

Lawrence wilted in his seat, face and ears burning with shame. He was undeniably doing better in terms of his mental state, mostly due to him keeping up with meditating and socializing with the other vault hunters. He still had his breakdowns and nightmares, but nowadays they were few and far between. In all his worrying about himself, though, not once did he stop to consider that the people around him were splintering apart while he was patching himself back up. What kind of friend was he?

"Then there's all this crap with this impending war or whatever," Axton continued, groaning through his hands as he slouched back in his chair. "Poppin' bandit heads can only do so much in the way of therapy. If I could have my way, she'd be back home with her parents." He paused before meeting Lawrence's gaze, his gray-green eyes deep and solemn. "So would you."

Lawrence cracked a small smile. "That would be nice," he agreed. "But I'm here now. I'll do what I can to help."

"'Preciate it," the commando said, offering him a tired smile of his own. There was a brief moment of silence between them before Axton jerked to his feet and shook off the residual emotional effects caused by their small heart-to-heart. "All right, we gotta load up soon if we wanna get to the Dust with time to spare. Gonna take about a day of driving to get there and another day of waitin' for the damn caravan to show up."

Lawrence was already getting to his feet. A road trip sounded amazing, provided he didn't think about the fact that they were only headed out there to slaughter some people and take their stuff. "Does Lilith know I'm coming with you?"

Axton made a hissing noise through his teeth. "Yeah, about that. Maya and Krieg didn't wanna tell her while she's in such a crappy mood, and frankly neither do I. So we're kidnapping you."

"Kidnapping - _oh_ -kay, jeez!" Lawrence squealed as Axton grabbed him by his thighs and threw him over his shoulder. Lawrence immediately dug his fingers into the commando's shirt and tensed up to the point where even his jaw had trouble moving. "Don't drop me, please don't drop me - "

"Never," Axton promised easily, toting him out the door.

~

Setting foot on what was legitimately solid ground for the first time in a month was amazing, Lawrence quickly decided. It overrode the fear of getting caught by Lilith that had plagued him for the whole ten minutes it took Axton to drag his ass down to Pandora. True to his word about not dropping him, the commando had gently set him down on his own two feet, but Lawrence's knees had given out anyway once he saw where they were, leaving him sitting in the grass, stunned by the new world before him.

He was used to the dry, cracked moonscape of Elpis and the cold metal of Helios. The area around them was exactly opposite; rolling green hills dotted with occasional clusters of wildflower and fauna spanned for miles around them. The sky was an amazing shade of blue and marred only by Sanctuary hovering high above them among the wispy white clouds. The area even smelled halfway decent, Lawrence noted - like earth and rain instead of sulfur or the stale stench of whatever chemicals were used to sterilize Helios's interior. Lawrence brought a handful of fresh, healthy dirt up to his face and breathed the scent in deeply.

At once memories of a little farmhouse with peeling red paint and a half-collapsed barn were stirred up by that scent. It wasn't just the smell of the earth. It was five little sisters running barefoot through the meadow up the street and returning home dirty and sweaty with armfuls of bright, colorful flowers that they weaved into crowns for themselves and their older brother to wear in their fire-kissed hair. It was the many summers he spent helping his mother with her veggie garden. It was the feeling of dirt beneath his nails because he refused to wear gloves despite his mother's protests. It was the sensation of sweat trickling down his spine as he fed the horses and cleaned up their shit and dodged Sir Kicks-A-Lot's frequent attacks. It was his mother's smile, his father's cigarettes, his sisters' stupid crafts and hobbies that took up half of their tiny house. It was the scent of home.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he didn't try to hold them back. Timothy ached inside him, wept for things he no longer had, but Lawrence felt alive alongside the pain, too. For the first time in years, he felt closer to home than ever before. And what's more: it didn't make him want to hurt himself.

Lawrence let the dirt slide through his fingers and the small wisps of grass drift away in the breeze.

A few minutes later, Axton came to him. He said nothing, just cocked his head and cast him a easy, questioning look. Not asking if he was okay. Just if he was ready to get moving.

Lawrence got to his feet and followed Axton over to where he'd sorted and packed their meager supplies. They had the usual essentials: boxes of ammo and a few canteens filled with mostly-fresh water. They'd have to find their own food or wait until reaching Ellie's place.

"Wanna help me with this shit?" the commando asked as he picked up one of the duffels and slung another backpack over his shoulder. "Our ride's down the hill."

"Sure," Lawrence answered as he snagged the other backpack. His shoulder twinged in protest as he lugged the strap over it. Gosh, he was so out of shape. 

They started down the hill, Axton taking the lead. Lawrence tried to keep pace with him, but he kept getting distracted by all the green. A strange bird flew by overhead, its destination one of the few trees that dotted the horizon. Lawrence watched, envious of the freedom that creature had. He would love to live in a place like this, too.

"Jeez, it's pretty here," he mumbled through a wistful sigh.

"Yeah it is," Axton agreed. "It'd be a great place to settle Sanctuary, but not until shit calms down a bit. And that might take a while."

Lawrence hummed, pleased that he might actually get his wish sometime soon. Though at this point, anywhere was better than the goddamn sky. "What are your thoughts on the war?" he asked.

"I'm not gonna think anythin' about it 'til it's here and bustin' down our doors," Axton said swiftly, indicating it was not something he wanted to talk about. Lawrence couldn't blame him. "Right now all I wanna do is go kill some Hyperion sons of bitches and steal their tech. Sound good to you?"

"I, uh, suppose," Lawrence replied, turning his head to hide his cringe. He really didn't want to do the whole "murder thing" anymore, but on Pandora, that was like saying he was over the whole "breathing oxygen thing." Not gonna happen.

At the bottom of the hill sat a very large, heavily armored vehicle that was, strangely enough, painted a bright shade of bubblegum pink. Maya and Krieg were standing next to it and perked up when they noticed their arrival.

"Glad you could make it," Maya said to Lawrence, flashing him a smile. "Sorry, it looks like we'll have to put our book club session on hold for a bit."

Lawrence returned her smile. "We've got the whole drive, right? I'm sure we could use some of that time to annoy the other passengers."

"Very true."

Axton groaned and slapped his free hand over his forehead. "From one nerd-dom to another. Man, why do I even like you?"

"My roguish good looks and charming personality must have something to do with it," Lawrence told him, sending him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle that could almost rival the kind Axton liked to toss his way.

The commando gave him a wry smile and shoved him, muttering a quiet, almost bashful, "Shut up."

Maya stared at the two of them like they were these strange alien creatures that she couldn't possibly hope to understand. A split second later realization came to her, and her perfectly plucked eyebrows shot high up on her forehead. "Oh, I guess I owe Gaige twenty dollars," she said. “Congratulations.”

Her words, while nonchalant, snapped Lawrence out of his glee. "What?" he exclaimed, dropping the facade and turning red in near unison.

He sent his wide-eyed gaze to Axton, hoping that he would be just as shocked by the accusation, but the man appeared only a little surprised - no where near the kind of panic Lawrence now felt bubbling in his chest. They weren't - no. Axton was like this with everyone. There was no way this was anything other than two grown men clowning around. Gaige had been trying her damnedest to hook them up despite Lawrence assuring her that he was fine, thanks, and yeah, things had gotten a little heated at Maya's party a few days ago, but all of it had been in good fun. There was no way Axton honestly, truly wanted to get with someone who looked like  _him_.

_The fuck?_ came Timothy's sudden, loud interjection, making Lawrence wince. _Dude, are you - are you shitting me right now -_

_No, no, he's right_ , a very amused-sounding Jack chimed in.  _I mean,_ look _at this dumbass. Hideous_ and _crazy._

Lawrence sucked in a quick breath, willing his two unwanted head tenants to just fuck off for three seconds, damn. "We're just - there's a difference between, like, _legit_ flirting and...what we're doing," he explained quickly, lamely, over Timothy's gobsmacked cursing and Jack's laughter. "We're just...playing. Right, Axton?"

It took Axton a moment to smile, and even then it looked incredibly forced - more of a grimace than a grin. "Yeah," he echoed through gritted teeth. "Just playin'."

Maya didn't even bother to school her expression into something portraying belief. "Whatever you boys say," she said eventually, turning back to the car. "Krieg's driving, so make sure everything's secure when you put it in the back."

"Shotgun," Axton grunted, moving past Lawrence.

A pang of _something_ jabbed Lawrence between the ribs at the sight of the retreating commando. He thought he had been doing them both a favor by denying anything between them was legit, but perhaps he'd been mistaken in speaking for both of them.

_Pfft, no way_ , Jack said, snickering.  _You said it yourself, kid: who would ever really want to get with someone who looks like you_?

A wave of disgust and hatred towards himself threatened to swallow him whole, but that sensation was quickly replaced with sudden shock when he realized what Maya had just said. "You let _Krieg_ drive?" he blurted before he could tell himself to shut up and stop being rude.

Maya just nodded and hauled herself into the back of the truck. "Krieg's proficient in a lot of things," she said, stooping to take the bags Axton wordlessly offered her. "Driving isn't one of them."

Lawrence swallowed hard. "So then why...?"

"Because it's fun," the siren said, flashing a rare grin. "I don't know about you, but I've been stagnating in Sanctuary. This ought to liven things up a bit."

"I'm the conductor of the poop train," Krieg agreed, slamming his fists onto the horn hard enough to rattle the whole car and probably dent the steering wheel. The obnoxious noise echoed throughout the hills, no doubt alerting every threatening creature within a mile to their presence.

Maya's grin widened as she turned back to Lawrence. "It'll be fun," she said again.

"Sure," Lawrence said faintly as he pulled himself into the truck bed. He felt like he was climbing into his own coffin. " _Fun_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	24. Chapter 24

He was dreaming of the chair and the fickle drip-drip-dripping on his brow when gentle hands coaxed him away from his nightmare.

"Lawrence, wake up," Maya's voice soothed over Jack's taunting.

He cracked open an eye and gave a full-body shudder as the sensation of being immobile, wet, and miserable began to fade. "Where are we?" he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open. He continued to shiver, though eventually he realized that was due to the chill in the air, not dreams that kept trying to sink their claws into him.

"Half a day's drive from Ellie's," Axton reported from his spot on the ground next to the truck. "We've pulled over for the night. Figured this was a decent spot."

"For the...?" Lawrence slurred, dragging a hand across his mouth to catch any stray drool. Consciousness slapped him in the back of the head, making him jerk into a sitting position.

Gone were the rolling hills of the Highlands, replaced by valleys of sharp, jagged rocks and plateaus that were glowing eerie shades of orange and red as the light from the setting sun caressed them. The ground that these formations rose up from was dusty and cracked, and if Lawrence inhaled deeply, he could taste the grit in his mouth, feel it in his lungs.

He was gobsmacked. "Did I sleep through the whole drive? How the hell...?"

"We tried to wake you," Maya said as she tossed Axton another bag, "but apparently you sleep just like Krieg after he binge-murders for a week."

"Lovely." Lawrence attempted to shake off the rest of his lethargy and blinked blearily down at the truck bed. God, he felt like he could crash for another day and a half at least. And he didn't even remember falling asleep! He hoped it hadn't been in the middle of a Play of Chairs conversation with Maya.

By the time Lawrence managed to lower himself from the truck bed and follow the others to their temporary base near a flat outcrop that overlooked a good portion of the valley, the sky had turned a dark blue and the air had gotten colder, enough so that Lawrence's shivering increased tenfold even with his heavy coat draped across his skinny shoulders.

Krieg was already at their makeshift camp tending to the fire - though really he was just crouched in front of it and staring very intensely at it. After urging him to sit back a little, Maya dropped a ratty blanket over his shoulders and then offered one to Lawrence, who gratefully wrapped it around himself as he sat down a few feet from the fire. He scooted back against one of the bags of supplies and let out a content sigh, sagging into the form of a toasty, sleepy burrito.

"Nuh uh," came Maya's sharp voice, jerking him awake. "You slept the whole day. Guess who's taking first watch?"

"Aw," he mumbled, sinking further into his now mildly-irritated-but-still-very-sleepy burrito form.

"You gotta teach me how to do the whole 'fall asleep anywhere' thing," Axton told him from across the fire, smiling a little. "Not even nearly tipping over once or twice thanks to Krieg's crazy driving could wake you."

Lawrence tentatively returned his smile, glad to see that the commando was talking to him normally again, or at least attempting to. "I dunno why," he said quietly. "I'm very tired and I've done nothing to warrant it."

Axton shrugged. "Sometimes you're just tired," he said. He sent him a sharp look. "Though not eating since yesterday might have something to do with it."

"It might." Lawrence felt himself turning a shameful shade of red. He'd yet to tell anyone about how awful food and water were for him now - how food tasted like the gritty dust and violence he experienced on Elpis for weeks on end, how water sat on his tongue like all the blood he spilled across Helios's cold, metal floors. How could he when these people kindly cooked for him and gave him water from their limited supplies?

"What do we have that can remedy this problem?" he asked.

"We're about to have some roasted rakk," Axton said smoothly as he rose to his feet and made his way to the edge of the outcrop. Lawrence followed his gaze and noted the small flock of the Pandoran creatures circling idly above them, no doubt waiting for one of them to drop dead or something.

Instead of using the damn sniper rifle attached to his back like a semi-sane human being, Axton tossed down his turret, which opened in mid-air and attached itself to the very edge of the outcrop. Its sensors immediately sought out the flock and opened fire, shredding through the rakks like they were sheets of paper blowing in the wind.

"That's my girl!" Axton crowed, pumping his fists in the air in victory.

"You let your turret do all the work?" Lawrence asked, accidentally sounding about as unimpressed as he was feeling.

The accusation seemed to take the commando by surprise. "What's wrong with that?" he asked defensively. "My baby's a good shot and I'm - I'm tryin' to save ammo, all right?"

Lawrence glanced behind him at the large duffel bag filled with ammunition, then to the other large bags that had been placed near Maya and Krieg. "Sure."

Axton's face grew redder, though this time with rage rather than embarrassment. "What, you think you can do better?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. It had been a long time since he'd last held a gun in his hands, never mind actually use one, so for all he knew, he could be terrible. He hadn't even been that good when he had been relying on his skills to stay alive, even after Athena pulled him aside for some training.

"All right, hot shot." Axton shrugged off the Jacobs sniper rifle strapped to his back and thrust it out to him. "Bag us some dinner and impress me."

Lawrence took the weapon and suppressed a grunt at the weight of it. "Where should I be aiming?"

Axton sent him a confused, mildly irritated look. "Uh, at the rakk?"

"No, I mean, which parts are we going to be eating?"

Axton glanced behind him at Maya, who arched a graceful brow in appreciation. "The wings," she supplied, "and the underbelly. Avoid those, if you can manage it."

Lawrence hummed in affirmation and took aim at the flock circling idly above them. His arms ached a bit under the unfamiliar weight of the rifle, but he took some deep breaths to steady himself, as Athena had instructed him long ago. When he lined up a shot, he exhaled slowly, held it for a tick, then squeezed the trigger.

The crack of the rifle in his ear startled him, but it startled the flock of rakk even more, if their outraged screaming was any indication. As another one of their own plummeted into the valley, they slipped into predator mode and began to soar downwards one after the other, out for blood.

"Shit," Lawrence hissed, hefting the rifle back up.

"When was the last time you even shot a gun?" Axton snarled, hurrying to pick up his assault rifle.

"Consciously? Two or three years ago," he snapped back. "Give or take. Time kind of becomes moot when you're forced into being a mindless drone for most of it."

His sharp, brutal words reigned the commando's anger in, shutting him up for the time being.

Maya sighed, shrugged off her blanket to expose her tattooed arm, and seized a handful of the rakks mid-air. Lawrence nearly dropped the sniper rifle in shock. He had never seen Maya's powers in action before; the sight of the huge, purple-black orb hovering in midair with several rakk trapped inside it, still shrieking but unable to move, was enough to send pangs of fright jolting through his body.

He was back on Elpis for a moment, cowering behind Athena's Aspis as Eridium-powered Lost Legion soldiers hurled their balls of light and flapped their wings and phased through the air like ghosts in a desperate attempt to keep them from finding the vault.

_Why can't we just stay in the present?_ Timothy moaned.

"Can't hold them forever," Maya reminded them through gritted teeth.

Nervously Lawrence brought the rifle back up and forced himself to calm down before taking aim at them. By the time Maya lowered her arm and sent the bubble of death away, they had six dead rakks all ready to be roasted up for dinner.

"Meat," Krieg cooed the entire time they were being roasted. He probably would have been face-first in the fire again if Maya wasn't in his lap, keeping him grounded in more ways than one.

They roasted the wings first and decided to save the breasts for breakfast. Krieg howled nonsensical things to the heavens until he got handed his share, then he began to devour it like a ravenous dog with a bone. Maya still sat in his lap with her own share, not bothered by the crumbs that occasionally drifted down onto her.

Lawrence was still shaking when he accepted a strip of crispy rakk wing that Axton passed him. "Th-that was amazing," he blurted breathlessly to Maya. At her confused look, he added quickly, "your powers. The whole..." He mimicked her lifting her arm and summoning the death-ball. "Just - super cool."

Maya offered him a small smile. "Thanks. There's still a lot I don't know about them. Information on sirens is unfortunately scarce, at least in these parts, but I plan to keep at it until I get some answers."

“Really?” Lawrence’s eyebrows shot up. “Have you had _any_ luck?”

Maya’s smile faded. “Not really, no. I’m still an anomaly. I’m also still super powerful and awesome, though, so I won’t complain too loudly about it,” she remarked. Behind her, Krieg gave a rumble of what Lawrence could only assume was agreement and lowered his masked face onto her head, his breath blowing wayward strands of her hair in all directions.

"Do you, um." Lawrence shook his head. "Never mind."

"What?"

"I don't want to be rude."

"If I was worried about being insulted by rude questions, I wouldn't hang out with people like Axton."

Said man jerked his head up and sent the trio a dirty look, unable to refute her statement thanks to having his mouth stuffed full with dinner.

Lawrence cracked a small smile before he asked, "Do you...use Eridium the way Lilith does?"

Maya chuckled and smirked down at the rakk in her hand. "No, my powers are legitimate," she said.

Axton sent her a curious look as he swallowed what was in his mouth. "Didn't think you would have beef with a fellow siren," he commented.

"I wouldn't call it a...beef," Maya said, sniffing. "I just don't agree with her stating that she's the most powerful siren in the universe. Not as long as she keeps using Eridium to enhance her powers."

"Fair 'nough."

Lawrence bit his lip and unconsciously touched a tainted hand to one of the puncture scars on his neck. Why someone would willingly inject that crap into their veins was beyond him - power be damned. Power corrupted. The thirst for it turned good men into monsters, and when those monsters finally got a hold of power, the whole universe was in trouble. Jack was a prime example of that.

"You better eat that b’fore it gets cold," Axton said through his mouthful of rakk.

The commando's voice jerked Lawrence out of his bitter thoughts. Meeting his gaze, Lawrence hastily took a chunk of his morsel between his teeth and ripped off a strip of it. The flesh was chewy even after being roasted and it tasted like ash against his tongue, but that might have just been the way rakk was.

Convincing himself that must be it, Lawrence finished his meal and even took a few swigs from the canteen Maya offered him. That didn't taste any better, but at least it helped wash the rakk down. That and Axton seemed satisfied that he'd consumed something.

As night fell and the world plunged into darkness, Maya tossed more wood onto the fire, and with a dash of rakk ale, sent the flames sky-high with a flash that had Krieg roaring with pleasure and Lawrence grinning with delight. At some point Axton produced a guitar seemingly out of thin air and began to pluck at the strings, aimlessly at first, before daring to strum out a few tunes.

Lawrence listened for a while, mesmerized as Axton's fingers danced over the strings, plucking and pressing them with practiced ease. The commando's fingers were calloused, a little thick, and sporting nails chewed and broken down to the bed, yet they still managed to produce a twanging tune that Lawrence knew he'd be humming for a while afterward.

"That's lovely," Lawrence murmured in between songs. "Didn't think the Dahl army would hand out music lessons to its troops."

Axton chuckled. "Taught myself," he admitted quietly. "Had to keep my hands busy somehow when I wasn't pullin' triggers or throwing grenades at enemy lines."

"Do you sing, too?"

"Naw. With this voice? I'd break the windshield on the technical if I tried."

Lawrence laughed. "Doubtful! Give yourself some credit, Ax."

Axton said nothing in reply to that as he slowly began to pluck at the strings on his guitar again. He had a strange, distant expression on his face that made Lawrence's chest hurt. He was still upset from earlier, he realized, inwardly kicking himself.

_Of course he is, you idiot_ , Timothy snapped.  _Why'd you have to open your big, dumb mouth and speak for him? Who knows what he would have said!_

_Too late now,_ Jack practically sang. Lawrence could very nearly feel the specter sneering; it felt like a tickle across the back of his scalp.  _He thinks you're a piece of skag shit. Any hope you might've had of bangin' this prick's brains out went down the toilet. Not that you had much of a chance to begin with, given the way you look and how fucked up in the noggin you are._

No, he thought, giving himself a quick shake. He could still fix this. "Ax - "

"Time for you to take first watch, Lawrence," Maya said, suddenly appearing next to him. She cocked a brow at him in question when he jerked from surprise, but didn't bother him further as she made her way back to Krieg's lap.

Not sure whether or not he should be grateful for the interruption, Lawrence grabbed a blanket and made his way to technical, all the while trying his hardest not to look at Axton. It was going to be a long night, he mused through a heavy sigh. And he had no one to blame but himself.

~

Lawrence jerked awake with a startled gasp, momentarily confused and lost. He was still in the back of the technical, he realized abruptly. He'd fallen asleep listening to Axton playing his guitar.

Glancing around now, though, revealed that that had been several hours ago at the very least. The sky was lighter now. Had he slept through the _entire night_? What the hell was wrong with him?

Furious with himself, he stood up, intending to see out the rest of the night to make up for his slacking, when the skin on the back of his neck suddenly began to stand on end. The sensation of being watched seized him so suddenly he got dizzy from it. He swayed a moment before he got a hold of himself, grasping the side of the truck bed for support. The sensation didn’t fade, prompting him to reach inside one of the numerous secret stashes lining the truck bed and pull out a revolver with a scope attached to it.

He stood up and brought the scope to his eye, peering down the long, sloping road they'd made their way up hours earlier. The light from Helios and Elpis didn't do much in the way of lighting it up, but the stretch he could make out in the dark appeared to be clear. He turned his gaze to the mountain on the other side of the road, but he saw nothing abnormal, not even a skag or a stray rakk skittering about near the top of it.

But the sensation was still there. Lawrence looked over his shoulder at his friends, who were all curled up in a dog pile by the smoldering remains of the fire, content and safe. He thought about waking them up, but hesitated, not wanting them to get up for nothing if he was just being paranoid again. At this point, with seemingly nothing but dirt and rock around him, that was the most likely cause.

As luck would have it, the very second he reached that sane conclusion and began to lower himself back into the truck bed, he felt something prick his neck. He immediately slapped it, thinking some goddamned Pandoran bug had nipped him, only to pull a tiny, inch-long dart out of his skin.

He gaped at it, horrified, and immediately went to scream for his teammates when his throat abruptly closed up, leaving him teetering unsteadily on tingling feet. A grunt was the only noise that escaped him as he toppled onto his side. Every last inch of him save for his wild, darting eye was paralyzed.

He was going to die, he realized, internally screaming. He'd been poisoned for sure. He was going to start frothing at the mouth and seizing and vomiting blood any second now, and his comrades would wake up five hours from now and find his hideous corpse in the back of the goddamned truck.

But that never happened. Someone grabbed him by his legs, dragging him out of the vehicle with one solid, joint-wrenching yank. He could still feel things, Lawrence quickly noted as the back of his head slammed against the dusty ground. He briefly saw stars, then the faces of those responsible for the paralyzing agent making its way through his veins: three masked bandits.

One of them reached out and tapped the side of Lawrence's head, right on the port he was content to forget about. The bandit said nothing to his companions, but they understood the gesture nonetheless. They wasted little time in picking Lawrence up and hauling his limp ass down the hill, away from the truck and his friends.

~

Maya woke when Krieg moved away from her. She had every intention of going back to sleep - Krieg was on watch duty after Axton and was no doubt getting up to take his shift - but the behemoth was letting out these alarmed grunting noises, the kind he only ever made when something was seriously wrong.

"What is it?" she whispered, sitting up. The fire had dwindled to embers, leaving her chilled, even with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She glanced up and realized that it was nearing dawn. Why hadn’t anyone woke her for her shift?

She turned back to the other burrito on the other side of the remnants of the fire. The bundle shifted, exposing a shiny pair of chevrons.

"Axton," she snapped. The commando should have been on watch duty hours ago. "Did you take second watch? Axton!"

The commando snorted and jerked inside his blanket burrito. "Sir yes sir, I'll have those waffles ready in a jiffy!" he squealed, only to blink his wild gray-green eyes in confusion at the sight of Maya glowering at him. "The fuck, Maya?"

"Where's Lawrence?"

"I dunno, still in the truck?" Axton managed to free his hand to scrub the sleep out of one eye. "Izzit my turn for watch?"

"I don't know. It's almost dawn," Maya hissed, turning back to Krieg. The psycho had hauled himself into the truck and was now proceeding to squat there.

Perhaps Lawrence had just fallen asleep, Maya reasoned, getting to her feet. The poor boy had been so exhausted earlier; it had been foolish of her to force him to stay awake on watch.

It was also foolish of her to keep referring to Lawrence as a boy, she told herself for the umpteenth time; he had been through too much torture to still be labeled as a child anymore.

She peered into the truck bed and felt a cold ball of ice settle in her gut when she noted it was empty save for Krieg, who had yet to move from his crouched position. "Crap," she sighed.

"He's gone?" Axton asked, sounding far more awake now. "Shit, did he - do you think he ran away?"

"Doubtful." Maya rose on her tip toes when she noticed that Krieg was actually staring at something lying on the truck bed. "Krieg, hand me that. Be careful."

The mutant dutifully handed her the small object, holding it in the palm of his hand so that she could pluck it up between her thumb and forefinger. It was a makeshift dart, she realized, noting the glass cylinder and the small, hollow needle that had been fused together. There was no doubt in her mind that Lawrence had been struck by it.

"Trouble?" Axton murmured worriedly.

"Oh, yeah."

Everyone froze at the sound of a car door slamming from somewhere within the valley. It was faint, but the noise was unmistakable in the deserted wasteland.

Maya whirled around and met Axton's wide eyes; they reacted in unison, snatching as much of their gear up as they could in one go before dumping it into the back of the truck. Krieg was already climbing into the turret and howling for blood while Axton slid into the passenger seat. Maya joined him behind the wheel and started the truck up, revving the engine until it roared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	25. Chapter 25

It didn't take them long to spot the source of their trouble tearing ass across the valley a quarter of a mile or so ahead of them, not with the size of the dust cloud they were kicking up behind them. Through the cloud they could spot two, maybe three vehicles - bandit technicals.

Lawrence was in one of them.

Maya slammed the pedal down and floored it. Their own technical was pretty fast, but also weighed down by all of their gear. It was going to take some serious finesse to catch up. Thankfully, finesse was something she had in ample supply.

"Why would they take him?" Axton snarled over the roaring of the wind and the truck's engine. He was glaring daggers through the windshield at the vehicles in front of them, as if he could make them slow down by mere force of will.

"He was isolated," Maya said, shrugging. "And even easier to nab if he'd fallen asleep - "

"No, I mean, what value does he have to a bunch of bandits? Are they gonna ransom him off to Hyperion or somethin'? Why not just gut him and take his gear like every other bandit on this goddamned planet?"

Maya swallowed hard and pushed the pedal down all the way to the floor. "Let's not give them the chance to try any of that, all right?"

Slowly they began to close the gap between the bandits and their cars. The dust and grit they kicked up allowed the vault hunters to sneak up on them gradually, but that didn't last long. As soon as they realized they were being followed, one of the three bandit technicals slowed down to open fire on them.

Maya doubted that Lawrence was on board this particular vehicle, so she signaled to the others to open fire. Krieg wasted little time in peppering the vehicle with bullets from their own turret, as did Axton, who stuck his rifle out the window and unloaded a clip into the back of the truck, trying to knick its tires. Most of their bullets lodged themselves harmlessly into the back of the vehicle.

Maya hit the gas and jerked the wheel, bringing them alongside the suffering vehicle. Axton winked at the passenger before blowing a hole through their head. Krieg finished off the driver with a blast of turret fire that shredded the cab as well as the rest of its occupants. With no one in control, the vehicle skidded around before coming to an abrupt stop thanks to a well-placed boulder that had fallen from the top of the canyon eons ago.

"The fuck did they expect?" Axton said, huffing out a laugh as he observed the crumpled, burning wreckage. "Idiots - "

Maya slammed on the brakes, but it wasn't enough to soften the blow much as the other bandit car as it slammed into them. They sped up again before they could really slow down, but just as Maya was getting ready to floor it, the bandits hit the brakes again, causing another rear-end collision.

“The brain rattles are consuming me!” Krieg snarled, sounding downright irritated as he swung the turret around.

"No, Krieg!" Maya yelled. "No more turret! Lawrence is one of those cars and we can't risk hitting him!"

Krieg roared in outrage, and Axton had to nod in agreement with the mutant. "The fuck do we do, then?" he snapped. "They'll just keep ramming us!"

"How good are you at jumping?"

Axton sent her a weird look, but that faded once realization hit him. "You want me to pull the kinda crap they pull on that shithole Promethea?" he snarled. "Even if I could make the leap without pissing myself, how would I get in - "

"Hello! We have a psycho with a buzz ax and an abnormal amount of strength!" Maya snapped back. "Krieg rips the roof off, you jump in and beat the shit out of anyone Krieg can't decapitate with his ax! And if Lawrence is there, we get him the hell out! Sound like a solid plan to you?"

"Not really!" Axton began reloading his assault rifle with shaking hands. "Just - make sure you get us close to the goddamned thing!"

Maya flashed him a confident smile. "As close as I can. Ready up."

"Yes ma'am."

They had been traveling at half of their maximum speed for the past minute, coaxing the bandit technical to follow suit so that they could keep ramming them. Maya sped up, jerking alongside the enemy vehicle before they could adequately react, and stuck her hand out the window to activate her powers. With a simple flick of her wrist, she snagged the enemy vehicle, unable to completely stop it but strong enough to hold it steady for a few seconds.

"Now!" she barked to her friends.

With all the finesse of a mutated man wielding a buzz ax, Krieg hurled himself from one vehicle to another, roaring for blood and meat as he usually did in the heat of a fight. The only reason he didn't slide right off the roof of the car was because his ax got snagged on one of the spikes sticking out of it.

Axton moved to follow, but could only get one foot up on the edge of the truck bed before his nerves gave out. "God dammit…!”

"Go, Axton! I can't hold it for much longer!" Maya yelled, only to turn her attention back to the car and find that the bandits had rolled the passenger side window down and were now pointing a revolver right at her head. The bandit fired just as she swerved the truck to slam into them, jostling everyone in both vehicles. A bullet flew past Maya’s face with inches to spare.

She whirled around, horrified by what she'd see of the commando, but Krieg had managed to snag the man and yank him onto the roof with him before he could lose his balance and get crushed beneath the wheels of one of the vehicles. Axton looked shaken beyond words, but he caught her gaze and flashed her a trembling thumbs up.

"Krieg, the roof!" Maya reminded the mutant.

A few hacks with his saw allowed him to get his fingers beneath a portion of the roof and begin to peel it back like one would open a can of processed skag meat. The vehicle began to swerve frantically as the driver struggled to throw off their unwanted occupants, but with Maya keeping pace on one side and the wall of the canyon on the other, he didn't have much in the way of maneuverability.

"Sometime today would be great, big guy!" Axton exclaimed shrilly.

"Gimme back my son!" Krieg roared, finally yanking the roof the rest of the way off. The few bandits left inside stood no chance in the face of Axton's rifle, but when he turned to face Maya, his expression was grim.

"Wrong car!" he shouted to her. "Nothin' in here but corpses."

Maya slowed the truck so that the boys could hop back in, then placed a bullet in the brain of the spastic bandit behind the wheel of the car, adding one last corpse to the doomed vehicle.

A few seconds after Krieg and Axton leaped back onto their truck, the bandit vehicle drifted to the left and bounced noisily off the side of the canyon. It rolled onto its side and then head over heels so fast that pieces of it broke off as it spun. Some of those pieces were undoubtedly chunks of bandit.

"I have seen the light!" Krieg exclaimed gleefully, clapping his huge hands as if he'd just witnessed a delightful opera and not a horrific accident.

“No time for celebrating yet,” Maya said, nodding towards the final vehicle still up ahead of them. It was the last one, but it was undoubtedly going to be the most difficult to subdue.

"Fuck me," Axton groaned, his thin lips even thinner now as he stared nervously at the other truck.

Maya glanced through the rear-view at him. "I'll go!"

Axton went to protest, but she was already snagging him by the front of his shirt and shoving him into the driver's seat. They lost a bit of speed in the seat swap, but Axton was quick to recover and set them back on track.

Maya joined Krieg on the truck bed and set her sights on the vehicle in front of them. "See if you can get right behind them!" she called to Axton. "We'll climb across the hood."

The commando let out an affirmation and shifted to the right, bringing them right behind the other vehicle. Inch by inch they closed the gap, until finally they were practically nudging the thing's bumper. It concerned Maya that the bandits let them get this close, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

She and Krieg began to make their way over the windshield and onto the hood. Maya caught Axton’s wide-eyed stare and offered him a confident nod that he failed to return. The guy had a lot on his mind, she reasoned, but it was logical to assume that of everything weighing him down, it was the fact that Lawrence was in the car in front of them. So close, yet still so far.

The minute she reached out to snag the back of the bandit vehicle, they slammed on the breaks, jostling the entire truck hard enough to almost dislodge her from the hood. Her hands scrambled for purchase on anything as she was brutally flung forward, but Krieg snatched her by her ankle before she could lose her teeth on the car in front of her. Casting him a grateful look, she hurled herself onto the back of the truck and helped the psycho do the same.

With a savage roar, Krieg peeled back the roof, exposing the three bandits inside. Lawrence was with them, folded onto his side on the back seat. One of the bandits was frantically jabbing at the port on the side of his head, and all Lawrence could do was lie there and make awful, wordless noises in agony. The sight enraged Maya; hadn't he suffered through enough unwanted surgeries?

With a howl of outrage, Krieg stuck his ax in the back of the bandit's skull, wrenching his corpse away from Lawrence before he could do any more damage.

"Lawrence!" Maya yelled, reaching for him, only to let out a shriek of pain and surprise as someone grabbed a fist full of her hair and yanked her backwards. One hand went to her hair, the other torn between fumbling for something to grab onto and the SMG she'd lost her grip on in the course of reaching for Lawrence. Krieg let out a bellow and turned to help, but Maya wouldn't let him.

"Get Lawrence!" she ordered, who only hesitated a split second before jumping into the car, ax swinging.

Maya twisted in the bandit's grip and summoned her powers, using them to send the bastard flying backwards. He bounced off the hood of their technical and flipped over the roof, disappearing into the dust cloud streaming from the back wheels of both vehicles.

At that same moment, Krieg surfaced from the vehicle with Lawrence in his arms. The kid was limp and half slung over the psycho's shoulder, but at least he was still alive.

"Get on!" Axton yelled, voice just barely audible from behind the windshield.

Maya didn’t need to be told twice. She lept over the small gap and scrabbled for hold on the technical’s hood, managing to snag one of the metal plates. She looked up, hoping that she’d be able to take Lawrence as Krieg passed him to her, but the bandit vehicle swerved harshly, finally breaking free of Axton’s grasp.

Terror seized her as Krieg and Lawrence were flung through the air. Krieg had clearly jumped from the vehicle before it lost control and started flipping, but that didn’t put her nerves at ease any. They disappeared into the dust, and for a full minute Maya couldn’t breathe.

By the time Axton pulled up next to the crash site, two of the other bandits had crawled out of the burning wreckage, whimpering and coughing. A few feet beyond them was Krieg, expectedly in one piece, and then Lawrence, who was covered in dust and sweat but seemingly unhurt save for the trickle of blood dripping down his face from his ECHO port. His stance was strange - it reminded Maya of a wild animal about to strike.

Sure enough, the second a bandit tried to lay a punch on him, Lawrence whirled around with an awful scream and slammed the poor bastard into the sand. He didn't stop there, though; he straddled the man and began to pummel him with his fists before he snatched the bandit’s own blade out of its sheath.

Krieg took out the second bandit before he could clobber Lawrence from behind, but he seemed reluctant to interfere with Lawrence as he sunk his blade into the howling bandit beneath him over and over, until his chest was shredded and his face unrecognizable. Lawrence continued to slash and hack at the man long after he was dead, still screaming and cursing like a madman.

"Lawrence," Axton barked, sounding as breathless as Maya felt.

Maya didn't expect the ferocity she saw in the boy's expression when he whirled around to face them. His eyes were wild and spilling angry tears down his gaunt face, and if it wasn't for the awful snarling noises tearing from his mouth, Maya would have sworn his hitching chest was a result of trying to hold back sobs.

Discarding his assault rifle, Axton took a step closer to the panicking man, his hands raised to show he meant no harm. "Dude, it's us. You're okay now," the commando said quietly.

Lawrence let out another awful noise halfway between a growl and a scream. His hands were shaking at his sides, the knuckles on his one hand turning white from how hard he was clutching the blade. Maya saw the signs, noted the subtle shifting of his stance and the way he tensed up, but couldn't open her mouth in time to warn Axton before Lawrence was launching himself at him.

The two men hit the ground hard, but Axton had braced himself and was quickly able to strike back. He grabbed Lawrence by the wrist before he could bring the knife down on him. A knee to the groin had Lawrence wheezing and being easily manhandled, Axton flipped him onto his stomach and twisted his arm until he dropped the knife. Lawrence let out a scream and tried to buck the commando off him, but Axton kept his arms pinned behind his back and held him until he could only screech and kick his legs in a weak attempt to smack the larger man off him.

"Filthy fucking bandits!" Lawrence snarled.

Maya felt her blood turn to ice.

"Calm down, dude!" Axton gritted out, oblivious to the fact that the man he was speaking to wasn’t exactly his friend. "You're safe now, I swear!"

But Lawrence was beyond hearing anything that they had to say to him. Still snarling, he slammed his head back against Axton's face with a sickening crunch. The commando released him with a pained yell, reflexively bringing his hands to his face to cradle his broken nose. Lawrence wasted no time in flipping him onto his back and straddling him. He had no weapons this time, just his fists; he prepared to bring them down on Axton's already-battered face with wild abandon.

When it became apparent that Axton wasn't going to fight back, Maya knew she had to step in. "I'm sorry, Lawrence," she murmured, then extended her hand.

Power surged through her and lit up the tattoos on her arm as she snatched Lawrence up before he could get another blow in. He howled in outrage as he was torn away from Axton's battered body and suspended in mid-air.

Maya didn't know what he was seeing; it was different for everyone, she assumed, as she only had the nonsensical babbling of bandits and psychos to go on. Some squealed in pain, others spouted relatively calm sentences about everyday things, others remained quiet. For a moment, she thought Lawrence was going to be one of the latter.  
  
Then, very quietly, the man said, "Mom?"

Startled, Maya released him. Apparently she didn't think that through well enough because when the sphere released the boy, he plummeted back down to the ground, still too out of it to right himself. Axton was conscious enough to open his arms and catch Lawrence, at least, though both men grunted in pain upon impact.

"Sorry," Maya blurted, moving closer. "Is - is he okay?"

Axton groaned and picked his head up. His nose was bleeding freely and his one eye looked like it was getting ready to swell up. “I-I dunno,” he rasped, struggling to right Lawrence so that they could get a look at him.

Maya helped him, pulling Lawrence into a sitting position, though his head continued to hang limply, prompting her to cup the back of it. “Lawrence,” she said softly yet firmly. She wasn’t even sure if Lawrence was here or if it was Jack at this point.

Lawrence whimpered. "Take it out."

"Take what out?" Axton blurted, immediately looking up and down Lawrence’s battered frame.

"The thing they were using to scramble my brain - please, it hurts so bad, Axton, please..."

He still had the small needle sticking out of his port, Maya realized with growing horror. Her stomach rolled with revulsion for a multitude of reasons, the foremost being that she had seen a bandit jabbing the goddamned thing into the port with reckless abandon, like he'd been sawing open a melon, not doing delicate brain surgery. The skin around the port was hacked to shit, but who knows what the inside of Lawrence's brain looked like now. No wonder he was freaking out.

Axton bit his lip and turned to Maya. "I don't trust these old hands," he rasped, which was stupid because she was older than he was.

Still, she said nothing about it and crouched down next to the two men. Lawrence was weeping silently against Axton's chest, his good eye shut and leaking a steady stream of tears mixed with blood. The needle was half broken off in the port, with maybe less than two inches sticking out for her to gently take between her thumb and forefinger. She hesitated, waiting for any signs of discomfort from Lawrence, before she gently began to pull it out.

There was quite a bit of suction resisting her, but she powered through it as gently as she could. Despite her tenderness, a trickle of blood came gushing out of the port alongside the needle. The more she revealed of the needle, the more she realized just how awful things could have gotten for Lawrence if they hadn't arrived in time.

"God..." she whispered, grimacing. It would be a miracle if the guy was mentally all right after all of this. She was a fool for putting him on watch. They were all fools for bringing him down to this awful planet.

Lawrence let out a terrible, wet noise as she finally pulled the last of the needle out of his brain. He jerked once, twice, then fell almost completely frozen against Axton, his one eye wide open and unseeing. Blood still trickled sluggishly out of the corner of his bad eye and his ear.

"Lawrence?" Maya asked frantically when he didn't move. "Shit - fuck, did I fuck it up? Say something!"

Gradually Lawrence grew less tense, until he hummed and let his eyes drift shut. "I'm okay," he whispered. "Just one hell of a headache."

With a wet, strangled laugh, Maya fell back onto her ass into Krieg, who leaned heavily into her as a sign of relief. "I'll bet," she choked out.

"Can we please just go to Ellie's now?" Axton rasped.

They hobbled back to the truck on tired, unsteady legs. Maya made a quick stop at the bandit's crumpled vehicle to scrounge for supplies; the only things she found were a few boxes of ammo, most for guns none of them used, but she took them nonetheless, thinking that they could at least sell them. When she returned to their truck, Krieg was waiting behind the wheel and Axton and Lawrence were slumped together in the back in a bloodied, pained pile.

Maya poked her head through the open passenger window. "Drive slow," she told the behemoth, who gazed at her through his one golden eye. "Let me know if you want to switch out."

"Meat horse carousel," Krieg grunted in affirmation before starting the vehicle.

Maya pulled herself into the truck bed and sat down by the two men. Axton's nose was still bleeding, and Lawrence still looked severely out of it as he leaned against the commando, his head limp against his shoulder. Maya hoped he was just tired and suffering from a headache and not lying about his current mental state of being.

She turned her gaze back to Axton and beckoned him to sit up with a crook of her finger. "C'mon, you know the drill."

The commando huffed out a small groan but acquiesced, gently dislodging Lawrence as he leaned forward. "I hate it when you do this."

"Would you rather live with a crooked, ugly nose?"

Axton groaned again and squeezed his eyes shut as Maya brought her hand to his face. She was glad she had exhausted most of her power during the chase, as it made it easier for her to control the level currently escaping her fingertips. She formed it into its typical sphere, though this time only about the size of her palm, and forced it forward into Axton’s space.

The commando hissed through his teeth as his nose audibly cracked back into place. A fresh round of blood began to trickle out of his nostrils, but it stopped soon enough as Maya continued to heal him. The swelling around his eye went down and the big bruise on his cheekbone began to fade, until finally the only thing marring Axton's handsome mug was a thin smattering of stubble and the layers of dust that they were all coated with.

"Thanks," he said, sitting back with a heavy sigh.

"Of course." She turned her attention to Lawrence, who was still awake and staring at her through his wide, slightly dilated eye. Maya hesitated. "Do you want me to try? I can heal the skin around the port, if nothing else."

He made a noise of agreement and sat up on his own accord. Axton kept a hand on his spine just in case.

Maya scooted closer and touched the edge of the orb to the shredded skin by his port. Immediately the wounds began to heal, becoming thin red lines before closing up entirely. Maya held her breath the closer she got to healing the skin directly framing the port. She was still learning how to heal people instead of breaking them to pieces with her powers; the last thing she wanted to do right now was screw up on such a delicate procedure.

As the last bit of flesh sealed shut, Lawrence sucked in a gasp and jerked upright, apparently no longer needing Axton's support. "Goddamn," he grunted, blinking wildly. "That - that's worlds better."

Maya frowned, simultaneously relieved and concerned. "I didn't touch the port," she said nervously. Had she?

Lawrence nodded slightly in agreement. "No, it - I think just healing the skin and bone jostled the damn thing back into place. S'not digging into parts of my brain it shouldn't be," he explained. He released a heavy sigh as Maya withdrew her hand. "Thank you."

"Of course," Maya said faintly, lightheaded now. It had been a while since she'd last unleashed her powers so forcefully and the lack of practice was catching up with her.

Axton noticed her slouched shoulders and pale face and reached over and squeezed her knee. "Take a nap," he suggested. "We're still an hour or so out from Ellie's place."

Maya nodded and made her way back into the cab, slipping in through the makeshift sun roof. Krieg had the car going at a pretty decent pace, she noted, and sent the man a small, tired smile in thanks. Krieg tilted his head at her, made a quip about meat and gristle, then went back to watching the expanse of sharp desert unfold before them.

As Maya settled in for a much-deserved nap, conversation began to drift in from the passengers in the back, their voices just barely audible over the rush of wind and the rumbling engine.

"What did they want from you?" Axton asked. "Just your tech?"

Lawrence must have nodded in affirmation. "They were trying to tear the thing out of my brain," he said bitterly. "Hyperion tech of that calibur’s worth a lot down here, I guess. It's a shame. If it wasn't hardwired to half of my nervous system, I would've been glad to hand it over to them if they'd just asked."

"Bandits don't ask much these days. Can't afford to in a world like this."

Lawrence hummed in agreement. "I don't know how they knew I had it. I fell asleep on my watch, so they could have scoped it out then, I guess."

"Well, we'll have Ellie take a look at that thing just to make sure fine," Axton assured him. "She's good with the mechanical stuff."

The conversation drifted into silence filled only by the roaring of the world around them. Maya blearily stared out the window and watched as the valley of jagged rocks and plateaus gradually became sandy hills with the occasional pile of trash or skag dens, indicating they had made it into The Dust. Ellie's was less than an hour away.

Maya was almost asleep when she heard the boys in the back pick up conversation again, this time softer and much harder to hear.

"How's your face?" Lawrence asked. "I'm - I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me..."

"Nah, dude, it's all good now. You got a strong noggin," Axton commented lightly, sounding as if he were smiling.

Lawrence sniffed hard. "No I don't," he whispered so softly that Maya was almost certain she had imagined it.

Neither man said anything for a long while after that. Though she knew it was none of her business, Maya still chanced glancing in the rearview at them. She wasn't surprised to find both men curled against one another, wrapped up in a blanket. Axton had his arm coiled around Lawrence's head, shielding their faces from her view and bringing them so close that their foreheads were touching. It was so intimate that Maya immediately looked away and chastised herself for being so curious.

Lawrence had told her earlier that all of their blatant flirting had been nothing more than them horsing around, but the look Axton had given him after he had insisted so vehemently on it made Maya think otherwise. Axton tried so hard to be this goofball that flirted with anything on two legs, but Maya knew that when the man truly fell for someone, he fell hard, often getting hurt in the process, like what happened with his ex-wife. As she glanced one last time into the rear view, she became pretty convinced that there was something between the two men, even if it was platonic, like what she had with Krieg. A part of Maya wanted to butt in and tell Lawrence to either grow up and make a decision before he ran Axton into the ground, but the other half of her was adamant that it was none of her business.

They were grown men, she reasoned. They would figure it out on their own.

She snorted. Yeah, right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	26. Chapter 26

They pulled up to Ellie's garage four hours later than the time they had told her they'd be arriving. Despite having a sore back and ass on top of a headache, Lawrence was loathe to leave the truck bed, not while he was wrapped up with Axton. It must have been close to a hundred degrees outside and the combined heat from Axton and the dusty blanket around them had made him sweat through his shirt.

But he was comfortable. Safe. The events of the past couple of hours had nearly faded from his mind completely as he dozed, his head lolling against Axton's shoulder.

Unfortunately that peace didn't last. Maya banged on the side of the truck with her knuckles, jolting both men awake.

"No, sir, I don’t know where all the sugarcubes went," Axton grunted, then sat up straighter and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Did we make it?"

"Yup," Maya said, staring at both of them with an odd level of intensity. "Let's not keep Ellie waiting longer than she already has been, shall we?"

Said woman was currently making her way out of her spacious garage towards them. "Well ain't y'all a sight for sore eyes!" she called to them. There was a grin on her pretty face that put them all at ease, even Lawrence, though that was only briefly.

Axton jumped down from the truck bed. "Hey, El - "

"Don't y'all know it's rude to keep a lady waiting?" Ellie teased, scooping Axton and Krieg into a hug that made both men grunt. She pulled back and frowned at everyone. "God, but y'all are in sorry shape. Did ya flip the truck or somethin''?"

"Something like that," Maya replied, moving aside to reveal Lawrence in all his nervous, hunched over glory. He had his scarf half-wrapped around his mouth, but most of his features were still visible, much to his chagrin.

"Ellie, this is Lawrence," Maya explained. "He used to be one of Jack's body doubles. Law, this is Ellie, Scooter's sister and mechanic extraordinaire."

"Hello," Lawrence choked out, nodding at her but unable to meet her eyes. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Ellie arched a brow at him for a moment, no doubt thinking of ways to kill him in his sleep. Instead of whacking him to death with a wrench, however, a grin split Ellie's face in two as she scooped Lawrence into her arms the same as she had with the other men. "Well ain't you the cutest thing to walk Pandora since Axton over here!" she cackled while the commando flashed a grin in agreement.

Well, that was the first time anyone had ever called him cute sincerely, Lawrence realized, gasping in Ellie's titan grasp. "Th-thanks?" he squeaked.

She released him and gave him a hearty pat on the arm. "Don't look so scared, boy. Scooter already told me all about you. What, did you think I'd greet ya guns blazin' or somethin'?"

"Well, yeah."

Ellie made a dismissive noise. "The only one I'm pissed off at is Maya for not tellin' me you were comin' with 'em," she said, frowning at the siren. "I only made up enough beds for the three of ya."

"That's okay," Axton cut in, sending a rather lecherous look Lawrence's way. "We can share."

That was the first playful jab the commando had offered up in a while, Lawrence realized, unable to suppress a stupid smile while Ellie let out a guffaw and slapped her knee.

As they began to unload the truck, Ellie circled the vehicle, tsking at the dents and scrapes and the front bumper that was barely hanging on. "Y'all never told me what happened out there," she said, turning to face the others. “It must’ve been bad if the truck's lookin’ the way it does now. Cripes.”

"We had a run in with some bandits," Axton explained. "They drugged Lawrence and messed with his noggin pretty badly. Can you take a look?"

Lawrence bent sideways so that she could take a closer look and was grateful when the woman brought a hand to his arm, steadying him. He was mostly just feeling tired from the day's shenanigans, but he wouldn't deny the existence of small, sluggish tingles that were still making their way up and down his limbs every now and then thanks to whatever was in that dart the bandits hit him with.

Ellie bit her lip. "Shoot, kid, I don't think I can help you with this kinda tech," she said, shaking her head. "'Fraid you might be out of luck."

"That's okay," Lawrence said, straightening up. He brought his middle finger to the cold, metal circle, tapping it gently. "It feels fine now. Just figured having it looked at after nearly having it ripped from my skull wouldn't hurt."

"Well," Ellie said through a long-suffering sigh, "I know someone who might be able to help. Lucky for you, she's here right now on an...unexpected visit." The mechanic didn't seem at all happy that this person had shown up, but that didn't stop her from turning around to face the garage and yelling, "Hey, Ma! Get out here, I need your help with somethin'!"

Axton let out a small groan. "Man, Moxxi's here? She tryin' to get you to move back to Sanctuary with her again?" he asked.

"Constantly," Ellie said, shrugging, "though this time she was here on legit business - booze in exchange for parts. Pretty decent trade, I think."

"Hell yeah it is." Axton grinned. "I haven't gotten properly boozed up in a long time. I think after today, we all need it."

The mechanic smirked at him. "What makes you think you're gonna get any, boy? You may be pretty, but you ain't pretty enough to partake in my stash."

"Aw, girl, you wound me!"

Abruptly Axton's words penetrated Lawrence's mind. His jaw dropped for a multitude of reasons, the foremost being horror. "Wait, _Moxxi?_ " he blurted, but it was too late to escape, as the ex-woman of his dreams was already strutting out into the yard to greet them.

Lawrence hated that his reaction was more or less the same as it had been the first time he laid eyes on Moxxi. He felt his battered face instantly light up with a heavy blush, and anything he might have said died in his throat as his chest constricted. He wasn't sure if that was because he was still infatuated with her or if it was his body's natural terrified reaction to seeing her for the first time after she nearly killed him back on Helios. Either way, he wasn't happy to see her.

"Well, hello there, handsome," she purred, smirking at him. It was unfair how she was still so damn gorgeous years after he'd last seen her. Lawrence began to think that she just didn't age. "I was wondering if I'd ever get to see you. You've yet to drop by my bar in Sanctuary for a drink, you know. A girl might think you're trying to avoid her."

He could only shrug and avert his eyes, hoping that breaking contact with her would allow his body to calm the fuck down in more ways than one. Ever since he discovered that corner of Sanctuary where her bar sat, he had dutifully stayed out of it, knowing that he wouldn't be able to face her without embarrassing consequences. But he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid her forever. Too bad he had to run into her now - now, when he had been in a relatively good mood with people that made him happy.

"Nothing to say to me?" she teased, leaning forward to further expose a pair of her best assets. "It's been so long since we last saw each other, pumpkin."

"Leave him alone, Ma," Ellie groused. "I need you to take a look at the port thing on the side of his head, then you need to leave."

Moxxi frowned at her daughter. "Port thing? As in an ECHO port?" she asked, turning back to Lawrence. There was a flash of the woman Lawrence fell in love with at first sight - the woman who was as attractive as she was tech-savvy, the one who slurred her words due to an accent, not because she was wearing her typical sexy facade. It made his chest hurt for a multitude of reasons.

When he failed to reply, too lost in his thoughts and old memories, Moxxi turned to the others. "How about we all get out of this heat?" she suggested. "I can take a look at Lawrence’s ECHO port while the rest of you unload and relax."

"It's hot inside the garage, too," Ellie said tersely.

"I promise I'll leave right after I make sure nothing's wrong with Lawrence," Moxxi snapped finally. "Will that make you happy, my darling daughter?"

"Yeah, actually, it would."

The two continued to bicker as Lawrence turned away to help Maya, Axton and Krieg unload the last of their bags from the truck. He only noted that his hands were shaking after he reached up to accept a satchel of ammo from Maya.

She cocked a brow at him. "Are you gonna be okay?" she asked quietly, mindful of the other two.

Lawrence nodded. He'd be better once Moxxi leaves, but he didn't say that out loud, afraid she might hear him. Though really, it was obvious to everyone but her that he was severely uncomfortable. Or maybe she knew and was enjoying torturing him. With Moxxi, that was a very likely possibility.

Five minutes later, all of their important gear was stacked against one of the garage's interior walls. Lawrence was pleasantly surprised by how clean the place was, considering how filthy the rest of the junkyard was outside. Ellie had set up a table for them by a row of open windows for them to kick back at, there was a fridge stocked with fresh water and food, and a wash tub out back where they could at least wash the dust off their faces and out of their hair. Axton and Lawrence had to push and shove each other out of the way to get there first, though in the end it was Maya who wound up with first dibs.

"I'll roll out the beds for y'all later," Ellie told them after they had finally settled at the lone table in the garage, mostly dirt-free and cooled off. "In the meantime, make yourselves at home."

"Thank you, Ellie," Maya said, offering her a small, tired smile. "When should we expect to head out to intercept the convoy?"

"It'll be making its way from the Friendship Gulag in about eighteen hours," she reported, glancing at an invisible watch on her arm. "Give or take. I suggest gettin' out there about an hour in advance just in case."

"Yes, ma'am," Axton said, saluting. "Until then, do we have permission to get royally crunk?"

Maya sent him a mildly dirty look. "Weren't you ready to sleep for fifty years like, half an hour ago?" she asked.

"That was half an hour ago," Axton said. "Now I'm wide awake and ready to drink myself stupid. Krieg knows how I feel, don't you, bro?"

The behemoth fixed his one visible eye on the other man. "Blood sausage," he grunted.

Axton turned back to Maya and flashed her a shit-eating grin. "See? He agrees with me."

"That's not what he said. Like, at all."

"Oh, like you're an expert in Krieg-isms."

"Sorta, yeah."

Lawrence hid his smile behind his hand, only to have it fade when he caught Moxxi's gaze from across the room. She was leaning against the only car in the garage and staring expectantly at him. When he didn't budge, she crooked a finger at him in a way that made his loins curl with a bitter mixture of revulsion and lust.

Against his better judgement, he made his way over to the woman. He was pretty sure his head was okay now - well, as okay as it was gonna get these days - but he couldn't shake off the paranoia that there might be something wrong after all. He didn't trust Moxxi, but he would be a fool to pass on this opportunity.

Lawrence frowned when Moxxi led him around the other side of the car where the others wouldn't be able to see them, but he said nothing about it. The businesswoman sat down on the edge of a crate and gestured to the lone chair next to her. Lawrence gingerly lowered himself into it, only to flinch when she reached out to take his chin in one hand.

"Relax," she cooed, using her other hand to stroke the top of his head. "If I wanted to snap your neck, I would have the moment I heard you were in Sanctuary."

"That really doesn't make me feel any better," he muttered.

"I suppose it wouldn't." Moxxi went quiet as she made him lean slightly closer to her so that she could get a decent view of the port. "Wow, this is a pretty old model. Do you mind if I poke around at it for a bit?"

"Knock yourself out."

She chuckled quietly before scooting closer, all but straddling him on his left side in an attempt to better see his tech. His treacherous eyes darted to her breasts, which hung mere inches from the side of his face, but he forced himself to glare down at his knees instead. He felt so out of control around her and he hated it.

"Lilith's told me you've been very busy since your adventure on Elpis," Moxxi began, much to his irritation. He didn't want conversation, goddammit.

"Oh, sure," he snapped, "if being mutilated, tortured, and turned into an unfeeling drone counts as 'being busy.'"

She frowned. "I'm sorry," she said, sounding honest enough. "Jack had always been messed up, but after Elpis, he really lost it. I'm glad you managed to escape. This kind of vault hunting business - it's not good for someone as sweet as you, kid."

Sweet. Timothy had been sweet. Lawrence was just a cold, empty, broken shell with too many bad memories and not enough booze in his system. He could hear Axton and Ellie being loud and jolly on the other side of the car, no doubt already halfway through a bottle of whatever. He envied them.

"No shit," he muttered. She scraped a small tool against the inside of the port, making him wince. "Can we talk about something else? You - you look great, Moxxi. Been working out?"

She cracked a small smile and pulled away, setting the tool aside. "Thanks," she said. "You look good, too."

He snorted. Ellie had called him cute earlier, but something told him that she thought everyone was cute, even if they were, in fact, not. "Hello, have you _seen_ me? I look like some beast out of a horror movie."

"But you're alive," Moxxi pointed out, briefly meeting his gaze before her sharp eyes darted back to the port. "Some people aren't so lucky these days."

Lawrence knew she was talking about Roland. And she was right - he was lucky, and he should be content with being alive. But that was easier said than done.

"And you're not so terrible looking," Moxxi added.

Suddenly she was in his lap, the added weight making the old rusty chair legs creak in protest. He sputtered and protested right alongside it, but she merely shushed him.

"Just getting a better view," she said smoothly, offering a smirk before she turned his head to the right, exposing more of the port.

Lawrence held his breath until his cheeks turned red from lack of oxygen instead of lust. True to her word, all Moxxi did was poke and prod at his ECHO port, but it still didn't erase the fact that she was straddling his hips and he could feel her against him through both of their clothing. There was no doubt in his mind that she could feel him, too. He was glad he didn't have to look at her throughout all of this.

"Looks like everything's in halfway decent shape," she concluded after what felt like a year and a half of observing. She leaned away from him, thankfully putting space between their faces, but bringing their crotches grinding together as a result.

Lawrence couldn't help the sharp intake of breath. He gripped the arms of the chair and squeezed his eyes shut for a second, willing his dumbass body to get a hold of itself.

When he opened his eyes, he found Moxxi staring at him, her expression strangely soft and neutral.

"Y-you can get off me now," he choked out. He didn't sound nearly as confident as he wanted to.

"I could," she agreed, tilting her head. She made no move to do so. Just tilted her head a little bit more.

When she kissed him, he melted. Years ago when he first entertained the idea of making out with Moxxi, he had assumed that the woman would be as smooth and sharp with her kisses as she was with everything else. He thought he'd come out of it bruised and battered and more in love than ever.

Now, though, he was learning that Moxxi's kisses could be gentle and sweet. She cradled his face in her hands as she pressed her lips to his - an easy pressure that sent a violent shudder down Lawrence's spine. She pulled away in question, and he chased after her with a pathetic whimpering noise.

"Oh, kid," she said through a sigh as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He resisted the urge to bury his face in her shoulder.

_Wow!_ Jack exclaimed so loudly that Lawrence literally gasped. _After all that teasing and groping with that asshole commando, you're gonna up and do this to him? Hah, even_ I’m _not that much of a douchebag!_

_Why?_ Timothy was screeching, so angry that Lawrence almost mistook him for Jack.  _Why, you idiot, why?_

"Stop," Lawrence choked out, grabbing Moxxi by her shoulders and pushed her back, practically having to peel her off him. "N-no, Moxxi. I can't."

"No?" she repeated. "Why not?"

"I...look, five or so years ago, I would have let you step on my face if it meant making you happy," he admitted. "But that was a long time ago."

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and dislodged herself from his lap. "I guess that's what made me like you in the first place," she said quietly, adjusting her corset. Upon seeing his mildly horrified look, she quickly elaborated. "The part about you wanting to make me happy. Not many people have that on their to-do list when they ask me out."

Lawrence just shrugged. His mama raised him right, he guessed. "Well, thanks anyway. For - for checking the port, I mean."

"Of course." She tilted her head and offered him a small smile. "You're so unlike him. Always were."

"Not always," he said quietly, averting his gaze. "But I tried."

"Sometimes that's all you can do."

He spent another minute adjusting his clothes, trying to make it look like he hadn't been sucking face with Moxxi behind a car while the rest of his friends were literally twenty feet away on the other side of the room. His shirt was just long enough to hide his boner, but he was pretty sure his shame was stapled to his forehead at this point, visible for all to see.

Sure enough, as they came out from behind the vehicle to join the others, Ellie took one look at them and scowled. "Dangit, Ma, do you have to seduce every other man that waltzes into my shop?" she yelled.

Lawrence felt his stomach drop out of his ass while Moxxi rolled her eyes at her daughter's outburst. "Kissing hardly counts," the business woman declared primly, totally missing the betrayed look Lawrence flashed the back of her head.

He automatically swung his wide-eyed gaze onto Axton and found the commando rigid in his seat, his expression stoney and cold. He met Lawrence's gaze head on without blinking; it was too much to handle and forced Lawrence to look away, ashamed.

Despite the heavy awkwardness settling in over the crowd, Lawrence pulled up a chair and sat down at the table, guilty gaze on his hands. Even Krieg seemed to notice there was something wrong and had toned down his half-drunken mumbling. Maya silently pushed Lawrence a bottle of rakk ale, which he gratefully drank from, not caring about the shitty taste or the burn it gave his throat when he swallowed it. Right now, all he wanted to do was drink himself into a coma.

"Everything in order?" Maya asked eventually, gesturing to his port.

"Moxxi did what she could."

"I bet she did," Axton muttered into his ale.

Lawrence sent the man a staggering glare before he snagged two massive bottles of ale, thanked Ellie for her hospitality, then headed back outside into the dusty Pandoran air. He ignored Axton's withering look drilling holes into the back of his head. He was tired, horny and suffering from a headache; there was no way in hell he was going to stick around if Axton was going to be a giant dick about something that was literally not his business.

_It's your fault_ , Timothy told him, sounding very disappointed. Somehow, that was worse than him being raving mad.  _You should have told Moxxi no sooner._

"Tell that to my dick," Lawrence snapped, voice sounding oddly hollow despite his anger.

_Well, maybe you should get over your body issues and do something so you're not constantly...like this! Preferably with Axton!_

"Shut up. It's not like I cheated on him or anything. It's none of his goddamned business who I choose to suck face with, is it?"

Timothy let out a long-suffering sigh. _No, I suppose it isn't_ , he said faintly as he faded into the back of Lawrence's mind for the time being.

He climbed into the backseat of the technical and plastered himself flat on the bed, determined to drink himself stupid so he didn’t have to think about his guilt or pain or anything. The sky was a magnificent shade of orange, scorched by the setting sun. Time sure flies when you're getting kidnapped and brutalized by bandits, he thought bitterly.

The sky got darker, the first bottle of rakk ale lighter. The thick liquid sat in his empty stomach like a wad of wax, uncomfortable but thankfully working its magic in record time. Bless Pandoran booze, he thought, knocking back another swig.

Lost to his thoughts, he wasn't sure how much time had passed when the truck dipped with extra weight. His brows arched in surprise at the sight of Krieg climbing aboard, though the behemoth didn't seem to notice him as he perched himself on the cab of the truck, his back to Lawrence. Lawrence watched him for a moment, recalling something he and Axton had discussed earlier on the ride to Ellie's.

"It's like there's more than one _me_ in here," he had whispered brokenly to the commando. He had been so hesitant to divulge such information, fearful that the others would frown on him as some poor lunatic. Which, hey, he kind of was, really, but he still didn't want the others treating him any differently because of it.

"This is gonna sound weird," Axton had said, "but you should talk to Krieg. A lot of us have suspected that there's more than one dude behind the wheel in that head of his. I dunno, maybe in his own weird way, he can help you out with the whole multiple personalities thing."

The idea had sounded weird then and was still weird now, but Lawrence, lonely and well on his way to becoming shitfaced, saw no harm in putting it out there. The worst Krieg could do was kill him.

"How do you handle it?" he asked him quietly. His tongue felt like a useless lump in his mouth. "Having someone else in there with you - someone who's a part of you, but not? Talking to you, yelling at you, just...existing?"

Krieg said nothing in reply, as Lawrence expected. He didn't even twitch in acknowledgement. Lawrence went to take another deep swig from his bottle, only to frown when he realized it was already empty. He wasted little time in cracking open the second one.

"Timothy's here," he mumbled as he dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. "So's Jack. Well, the Jack I pretended to be, at any rate. Usually they're quiet, but sometimes they..." He sighed. "Are we broken, Krieg?"

Again, no reply. Lawrence wasn't offended; it kind of made him feel better to just talk about it so openly to someone. And hey, maybe Krieg found it nice, too. Maybe that was why he wasn't screaming about blood or meat or veins or whatever -

"The blood of the innocent would go great in my salad!" Krieg exclaimed suddenly, dashing that thought to the ground. He whirled around on his perch and leaped into the truck bed, his feet coming to land on either side of Lawrence's torso. Before Lawrence could protest, the psycho's ax found a new home resting just below his throat.

Lawrence gaped up at the behemoth, frozen in terror. Half of him thought that Krieg wouldn't harm him, but the other half - probably the smarter half - was quite aware of the fact that, as loyal as this man seemed to be, he was still incredibly mentally unstable. And Lawrence was alone with him right now.

“Please,” he squeaked.

Abruptly Krieg withdrew his blade. In a softer, calmer voice, he continued, "I don't like salad."

He hopped off the truck bed and disappeared back into the garage, and Lawrence let out a heavy breath and collapsed, willing his wildly beating heart to slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	27. Chapter 27

Lawrence was downing the last of his second bottle when the truck bed dipped again. He didn’t need to pick his head up to figure out who it was.

"Scoot over," Axton ground out, sounding more than a little tipsy.

Lawrence wiggled over maybe an inch or two, too drunk to do much else. Axton didn't make it completely onto the bed, instead collapsing into a pile squished between Lawrence and the wall with his head coming to rest against Lawrence's hip. Lawrence had lifted his arm automatically when the commando approached and set it back down by his head, touching his scalp but not dragging his fingers through his hair like he very much wanted to. Lawrence wasn't sure if he was allowed to do that.

They lay curled together in silence for a while, both of them dozing in and out of consciousness. It was Axton who spoke eventually, saying something Lawrence doubted the man said very often:

"Sorry I was an ass."

"Is that you or the booze talking?"

"Aw, shaddup," the commando whined, turning his face into Lawrence's hip. "I'm tryin' to get back on yer good side, ya prick."

"You never left it," Lawrence told him. His words were slurring together, but he still sounded more aware than Axton did. "Look, you got jealous and that's fine. A perfectly normal reaction."

"I ain't jealous."

"It's okay to admit it. It's actually kinda cute."

Axton jerked onto his stomach, though that entailed rolling over half on top of Lawrence. "I ain't cute either!" he snapped, trying so hard to sound angry when all he sounded like was a drunk, somewhat irritated dude. With his flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, he wasn't helping his argument any. "I...am a vault hunter. Vault hunters ain't cute."

"You're right, I'm sorry, you're hideous. In my drunken mind I must have confused the two."

“You’re an ass.” Axton fiddled with a loose string on Lawrence's coat for a long minute. "You wanna make out?"

Lawrence tilted his head back as much as he could and laughed. "That - that would be hard to explain away as 'just playing', don't you think?"

The commando let out a rumble of irritation and rolled away, taking his warmth with him. "I was never playin’," he snapped.

_I told you!_ Timothy snarled, his voice murky and far away. Lawrence knew that if the voice had hands, they'd be smacking him upside the head right about now.

"S-seriously?" Lawrence asked, just in case it was the booze talking.

Axton made a noise of affirmation, but otherwise didn't go into detail, probably too embarrassed even with the alcohol loosening up his words. Lawrence stared at him for a while, struggling to make his brain work. It was just so hard to comprehend that someone would want to be with him as more than just a friend.

“Why?” Axton muttered, peering up at him.

Lawrence blushed; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “I mean, look at me,” he said, as if that was answer enough for his disbelief.

“You think I wouldn’t wanna be with you ‘cos of how you look?” Axton sat up and rolled onto his elbows. “Dude. Bro. I look at you and I see someone who’s been through a lot and made it out in one piece. I see a dude who makes me laugh, who likes my stupid memes and my guitar playin’. You make me happy, man. I realized that a while ago, even before Maya’s.”

Lawrence willed himself not to tear up at the commando’s words. “Then I’m sorry, too,” he eventually mumbled. “I really liked Moxxi a few years ago. Guess I still do. Did.” He made a face, cursing his loose tongue. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry for fooling around with her. And I’m sorry for putting words in your mouth.”

The commando hummed, then moved his shoulder in what was supposed to be a shrug. “No harm done.” He paused for a beat of comfortable silence. Then: "Is that a no?"

"I - what? Was that supposed to be you asking me out or - "

"Making out," Axton elaborated. "Do you wanna or no?"

Lawrence's mouth went dry. "I...shouldn't we, I dunno, at least like...hug first?"

_Way to sound like a teenager, you idiot_ , Jack taunted.

"We have. Unless you mean, like...cuddling." Axton cracked that stupid, shit-eating grin of his that Lawrence had come to enjoy seeing. "Do you wanna cuddle with me, Law?"

Lawrence snorted. "Nobody around here even knows what that means," he grumbled, sticking his jaw out in a pout.

"I do," Axton declared, huffing as he pulled himself into a kneeling position. He swayed slightly as he opened up his arms. "Wanna cuddle, bro?"

Lawrence nodded, still pouting.

"I'm'a cuddle you so hard," the commando growled as he crawled forward and embraced the taller man. Considering the fact that Lawrence was lying flat on his back, Axton really had no choice but to literally drape himself over him. He smelled like smoke and sweat and death and Lawrence melted into it, sighing and letting his eyes flutter shut.

"Best damn cuddler on this side of the galaxy," Axton continued, voice muffled by Lawrence's shoulder.

"You're drunk," Lawrence mumbled into the commando's neck.

"I can't feel my face," Axton agreed, pulling back to jab a calloused finger at his bristly cheek.

In a rush of alcohol-fueled boldness, Lawrence reached up and took the man's face in his hands. "I can," he said quietly. His fingertips might have been useless, but there was still some sensation in his palms that allowed him to feel the stubble on the commando's jaw and the warmth radiating from his cheeks.

Axton blinked at him, then sputtered out a loud laugh that Lawrence felt in his chest. "Was that - was that supposed to be a pick-up line, Law? Are you tryin' to seduce me?"

Lawrence withdrew his hands, blushing and feeling like a fool, but Axton snatched his hands back up and put them on his face, silently banishing those thoughts before they could really form.

"Naw, man, touch this handsome mug all you like," he told the man beneath him. "Normally I charge people for this kinda privilege, but it just so happens that I think you're pretty, so the first one's free."

Once Axton's words penetrated the heavy blanket of alcohol smothering Lawrence's brain, it was his turn to grin and waggle his eyebrows. "I'm pretty, huh?" he slurred, rubbing his thumbs along his cheekbones.

The commando also turned pink and blinked slowly as he struggled to make his brain work. "I mean, I ain't wrong."

Lawrence shrugged, his attention on Axton's lips. They were thin and a little chapped from the unforgiving air on Pandora. Absently he moved his thumb against them, wondering how they would feel against his skin.

As if reading his stupid drunken mind, Axton turned his head just enough to suck the tip of his thumb past his lips. Lawrence swallowed hard as Axton smirked around the digit and looked up at him from beneath his thick lashes.

"You like?" the commando asked, voice garbled by the digit resting between his teeth.

"I can't feel it," Lawrence whispered sadly, breaking eye contact. "The nerves in my fingers are dead."

Axton let his thumb go. "Oh. Well then, how 'bout this?" He took Lawrence's face in his hands and kissed him.

Lawrence stiffened for a second before he absolutely melted into the kiss. His eyelids fluttered shut and his heart began to beat a mile a minute in his chest, which was sad considering how chaste and careful the kiss was. God, he really did need to get laid, didn't he?

Axton pulled back and grinned when Lawrence tried to chase his lips with his own. "Felt that, did ya?" he teased.

Lawrence nodded dumbly. His eyes were glued to Axton's lips. "Can we do...more of that? And more cuddling?” He sucked in a breath. “Just - just cuddling."

"Just cuddlin’," Axton promised, moving in.

~

Lawrence woke feeling gross and hung over, but otherwise warm and sated inside his blanket cocoon. He kept his eyes closed, wary of the light aggravating his growing headache, as he snuggled closer to the lump next to him, seeking more of Axton's warmth. The commando let out a grumble but didn't protest.

When sleep continued to elude him, Lawrence was content to recall what happened last night. The feeling of Axton panting against his neck was a feeling he wouldn't soon forget. Technically they had just cuddled like Axton had promised, though admittedly there had been quite a bit of rutting involved in that cuddle session. Not that Lawrence had been complaining.

He shifted slightly, aware that his body was starting to remember the feeling of Axton grinding against it. As much as he would like a second round, he was too tired and sweaty to even consider it.

When the heat of the day began to make lying under the blanket uncomfortable, Lawrence finally opened his eyes. Axton's stubbly mug was the first thing that came into focus; there was a line of drool dangling from his lips, and every time he inhaled he rumbled like a rocket. The sweat on his brow indicated that he too was becoming overheated; Lawrence jerked the blankets off of them and chanced sitting up very, very slowly.

His head throbbed and his stomach rumbled with nausea, but eventually everything settled. He could see movement in the garage - probably Maya and Krieg and Ellie getting ready for today. He wasn't sure what time it was, but he was sure that they would have to be leaving soon if they wanted to catch the Hyperion caravan.

The thought made his stomach churn for a whole different reason. He didn't want any part in harming people if it could be avoided, so he wasn't quite sure where he'd fit in their plan to take the caravan down. Maybe they would just leave him here, he thought. He was slightly annoyed by that prospect. He might have been a pacifist now, but that didn't make him useless. He could at least drive the car, for cripes' sake.

Pressure in his bladder made him slide off the truck bed and hobble around the side of it to piss by a pile of trash. By the time he emptied himself of two bottles worth of booze and made his way back to the truck, Axton was sitting up (though that was pushing it; it was more like he was slouched against the cab) and guzzling from one of the canteens they had stashed throughout the vehicle.

"Morning," Lawrence chanced saying. He wasn't sure where they stood now after such a wild night, but that didn't mean he had to be rude. "How’re you feeling?"

"I hate myself," Axton grunted, dragging a shaking hand across his mouth. A string of drool followed when he pulled his hand away, but he made no move to get rid of it. "The drinkin' myself under the table thing, not the cuddlin' thing. That was fine. Great, even."

"Well, that's good to hear," Lawrence said as he pulled himself back onto the truck bed to join the commando. He accepted the canteen when it was passed to him and took a grateful swig, happy to wash the stale taste of booze even if he was only replacing it with the taste of blood. He passed it back to the commando, who practically snatched it out of his hands in order to chug the rest of the canteen's contents.

Lawrence watched his sweat-speckled throat work out of the corner of his eye, though truthfully his mind wasn't on how lewd it looked. "Who's Sarah?" he asked.

Axton spat water all over himself as he started hacking up a lung. Lawrence patiently patted him on the back as he choked, not wanting to press him if it was a sensitive issue. Eventually the guy recovered, wheezing and looking mortified beyond words.

"Shit, did I - did I call you that last night?" he babbled hoarsely. "Fuck, dude, I'm so sorry - "

"It's fine," Lawrence assured him, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Seriously. Don't worry about it." After his makeout session with Moxxi the day before, he had no right to get upset over something like this. Even if he was - just a tiny bit.

Axton did not look at all convinced or any less embarrassed. "Sarah is... _was_ my wife," he grunted out, glowering at the canteen in his lap.

Lawrence's eyes darted to the chain around Axton's neck. The diamond ring still hung there, shiny and glimmering despite the harsh Pandoran world it had been exposed to for who knows how long. "I figured," he said softly. "Did she...pass?"

"Nah. At least, not that I know of." Axton shifted, uncomfortable, though that might have just been him noticing the state of the inside of his pants. Lawrence knew _he_ was starting to find the crusty contents of his pants super annoying. "She divorced me right after tellin’ me I'd been kicked out of the army for disobeyin’ orders. Told me I should come out here to avoid the firin' squad."

"That was...nice of her," Lawrence offered lamely. Axton merely nodded, still frowning down at his lap. Lawrence bit his lip. "You still love her, huh?" he asked softly.

The commando's expression soured even more. "Can we talk about something else?" he gritted out. "What time is it? We got that convoy to nab today, 'member?"

Lawrence hummed, angry at himself for being so goddamned nosy. "Yeah. Sorry," he added as an afterthought. "It's none of my business."

"It ain't," Axton agreed, "but you're right, I still...I mean, I’m still hung up on her. I guess. Doesn't mean I should call her name out in bed when I'm with someone else, though."

"Hey, we were drunk. Shit happens." Lawrence hopped out of the truck and flashed him a teasing smirk from over his shoulder. "Just don't let it happen next time."

Axton did a double take and cracked a grin. "Already thinkin' of next time, huh? What else you got in mind?"

"I was thinking of something along the lines of 'sober' and 'not doing it in the back of a truck'."

Axton laughed, only to wince and put a hand to his head. "Sounds fair. I'll hold you to it," he said, still grinning as he slid off the truck bed. "Hey. C'mere."

When he turned around, he found Axton crooking a finger at him and looking entirely too smarmy. Lawrence tried to hide an excited grin by biting his lip, but it was futile. He moved closer to the commando and let his eyes drift shut as he kissed him, slow and gentle at first, before he gave a quick swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip that made Lawrence groan quietly. He wished they could spend the rest of the day like this.

"Your breath tastes like ass," he told Axton once they parted.

Axton snorted. "Yours ain't exactly minty fresh either, punk."

Lawrence grinned, almost too giddy to speak, and kissed him again. Axton’s kisses were so different from Moxxi’s despite sharing the same degree of careful tenderness - and it wasn’t just because of the stubble rubbing against his chin. Kissing Moxxi left him feeling jittery and out of control - and not in a good way. With Axton, it was like he was coming home, that everything was all right now. It was practically safety personified.

_Told you_ , Timothy muttered, sounding pleased.

"Morning, boys," Maya said as she strolled across the yard to meet them. She looked about as tired as Lawrence felt, but there was a small smile on her face nonetheless. "Sleep well?" she asked, blatantly eyeing them up.

"Yes," they said in unison, only to turn varying shades of red and glance away from each other like shy little school kids.

Maya's smile grew wider. "Good. We have about an hour before we need to head out, so do whatever it is you need to do to get ready before then," she said. "There's that water barrel behind the garage you can use to clean yourself up if you need it, and I think Ellie's in the middle of cooking us those rakk breasts for breakfast."

" _Yes_ ," Axton hissed, rubbing his hands together as all three of them began to make their way back towards the garage. "I am so ready to stuff my face."

"Didn't have your fill last night?" Maya teased.

"I skipped dinner to drink myself stupid, remember? Besides, I - _hey_ ," Axton exclaimed, almost tripping over himself as realization smacked him upside the head. "That - Jesus, Maya - "

The woman chuckled. "Just because I don't partake doesn't mean I can't jest about it," she said, smirking as the commando continued to stumble around like a drunk skag. "In all seriousness, though, should I not be telling anyone about...whatever you've got going on?"

Lawrence slowed his gait and exchanged a look with Axton, who cocked a brow at him. Clearly he was leaving the decision up to him, but Lawrence still had to ask: "Are we a thing? 'Cos, I, um...I'm cool with that if you are."

Axton's mouth twisted like he was trying not to smile. "We can be a thing," he agreed, turning back to Maya. "And I don't think it has to be a secret. Just don't, y'know, broadcast it over the ECHOnet or whatever."

She nodded and cast them both a sweet smile. "I'm glad you two are happy," she said. "Even if I do owe Gaige twenty dollars."

Axton went to go freshen up first, claiming that the dust in his pants was getting to be a little too much for him to handle. More jokes were cracked at the commando's expense, eventually making him storm out of the garage in a flurry of fake anger that left everyone else in hysterics.

They ate breakfast in good spirits. Lawrence even managed to down a few chunks of rakk breast before he decided to head out back to wash up. Axton hadn’t returned yet, but it had been nearly twenty minutes and there was only so much someone could do with a barrel full of semi-clean water.

Lawrence came around the corner of the building and stumbled to a halt at the sight of a very naked Axton just finishing up his wash. His back was to him, thankfully, but that merely gave Lawrence an eyeful of the commando's plump backside.

Of course, Axton happened to glance over his well-toned shoulder right then and see him standing there like a pervert. "Eek," he mockingly screeched in a high-pitched voice as he pulled his pants up over the curve of his ass. "Noo, don't look! My virtue!"

Lawrence felt himself turning red, but couldn't bring himself to look away from the other man. "S-sorry," he choked out. "Thought you'd be done by now."

"Nah, it's cool," Axton said, turning to flash him a grin. "I've been told I have a nice ass. Now that you got an eye-full, what's your verdict?" He arched his back, making his backside protrude with what was supposed to be an enticing little wiggle.

"You do," Lawrence replied, still wide-eyed and gaping. Abruptly his brain remembered that despite his body's current appearance, he was still mentally a young man, and young men tended to have certain needs. It had been literal years since Lawrence had felt anything as potent as the desire surging through his blood at that very moment. "Can I, uh..."

Axton blinked at him, then burst out laughing. "Holy shit, were you going to ask if you could touch my ass?" he wheezed. "Sorry, dude, that's just too fun...ny."

His laughter died abruptly as Lawrence knelt in front of him, eyes glued to his crotch. Axton stumbled backwards into the side of the garage, all traces of humor gone as Lawrence's hands gently came to rest on the outside of his thighs.

"I want to suck you," he blurted, looking up at him.

If nothing else, Axton's expression was worth the ensuing embarrassment Lawrence felt when he realized what he just said. "I-I mean, if - if you wanna," the commando practically squealed, grinning nervously down at him. "But - I mean, this is sorta sudden, y'know? Cuddlin' to...to dick suckin' is like...a big leap."

Lawrence cocked a brow at him. "We dry-humped each other until we came in our pants and passed out," he said. "Not exactly chaste."

"Y-yeah, but..." Axton trailed off as Lawrence hooked his index fingers into the hem of his pants, tugging them down slightly to expose more of that happy trail. "Y-you said you wanted to have round two in a legit bed."

"I'll get over it," Lawrence breathed excitedly as he dragged his hands down the commando's hips, gripping them for a moment before his hands came to rest on either side of his crotch. His thumbs traced idle circles on the rough fabric. "Third time's a charm or whatever, right?"

Axton let out a strangled "guh" as Lawrence's hands slowly converged on his fly. "I just washed an' all..." he mumbled, clearly distracted.

"You won't have to wash a second time, I promise," Lawrence said as he finally pulled Axton's half-hard cock out of his pants. It was thick like the rest of him, and being exposed to the warm air only made it harder in Lawrence’s hand.

Through the heavy haze of lust that blanketed Lawrence's mind, he realized that Axton hadn't technically given him permission to touch him. He pulled away, wide-eyed and ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, mortified. "Do you really want me to stop?"

Axton cracked open his eyes. "Honestly? I am so, _so_ for this, but..." He shrugged helplessly. "I'm more worried about you here."

"Why? I'm not exactly a virgin," Lawrence said wryly, flashing him a grin. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't want to, Ax." Lord knows he had spent enough time unable to speak his mind, and both men knew it.

The commando swallowed hard. "All right," he rasped, shoulders relaxing. "Knock yourself out - _oh, god_ ," he hissed, letting his head fall back against the side of the building as Lawrence got to work.

Axton was warm and hard in his grip and begging for attention, but Lawrence made a little detour first, bringing his nose to the crook of his groin so that he could kiss the base of his shaft. The commando's heady scent filled his senses, bringing his own cock to attention in no time at all.

He kissed along his shaft, giving it the same gentle care he would bestow on Axton's lips. His tongue darted out against the tip of it, making the commando hiss and slowly arch his back, unconsciously begging for a slightly stronger approach. Lawrence acquiesced, slipping the tip of his cock into his mouth.

Lawrence paused only a moment to peer up at Axton, to take in the dark blush across his cheeks, the way his bottom lip had become snagged between his teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut, his bare chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. It was a great look on him, Lawrence decided as a surge of desire jolted down his spine.

He took a breath through his nose, then swallowed as much of Axton as he could. Lawrence snaked a hand down to his own groin while he continued to pleasure Axton with increasing gusto, alternating between bobbing his head rapidly and swallowing the man whole in deep gulps.

"Oh, fuck!" Axton exclaimed, only to immediately cover his mouth, wary of the others inside the garage hearing them. Lawrence wanted to wrench more of those noises out of him, but knew now wasn't the time or place. There would be time for loud, enthusiastic sex once they got back to Sanctuary.

The thought made Lawrence groan around Axton's cock. He wanted to know what the man was like in bed, if he was really this loud all the time or if it was only when someone had their lips around him. His overactive imagination supplied him with images of Axton above him, that cocky grin on his face as he hooked Lawrence’s stringbean legs over his shoulders. The opposite image was supplied as well - Axton flat on his back and flushed from head to toe as Lawrence pounded into him.

Lawrence whimpered, rubbing himself through his pants. Above him the commando wheezed at the added stimulation around his cock, making the taught muscles in his toned abdomen ripple. From the corner of his eye Lawrence could see Axton’s hands quaking on either side of him, torn between gripping the back of Lawrence’s head and staying put, unsure of what their boundaries were just yet.

Lawrence made a noise of encouragement and used his free hand to draw one of Axton’s to the back of his head. The commando’s fingers spasmed as they clenched and unclenched around Lawrence’s hair. Lawrence had never really been one for hair-pulling, but he groaned eagerly right now, encouraging Axton to go on. 

Instead of making Lawrence move at a desired pace, Axton relaxed his grip and began to run his fingers through his hair. The gentle, intimate motion caught Lawrence off guard, making him pause for a moment to gaze up at the breathless soldier. Axton stared right back at him, but his gaze was distant, his pupils blown wide.

"Good boy," he was muttering as he brought his free hand up to join the other in its calming ministrations. "So damn good, goddamn, darlin'."

Lawrence had never been one for that kind of talk during sex, either - usually it had been said condescendingly or in jest - but now he found himself melting and preening at the praise, humming around the cock in his mouth as Axton's hands continued to smooth through his hair. His nails occasionally scraped against his scalp, sending shivers down Lawrence's spine.

Those sensations combined with the sight of Axton slack-jawed and gasping above him shoved Lawrence over the edge faster than he had expected. He came against his own hand, further dirtying the inside of his pants, and rode out his orgasm with whimpers and moans that vibrated around Axton's cock.

Almost immediately after, Axton came with a strangled noise and arched uncontrollably into Lawrence, but he had been expecting it and relaxed his throat just in time. He swallowed every last drop and continued to idly suck and flick his tongue against the underside of Axton's shaft until the commando jerked, overstimulated, and gently pushed him away.

"How the fuck," he eventually wheezed, "are you so good at that?"

Lawrence's swollen lips twisted in a smirk. "Not having a gag reflex helps," he said, rising to his feet. "I can give you some pointers once we get back to Sanctuary."

"Why wait?" Axton asked, hands skating down Lawrence's back to tug his shirt out of his pants. "Your turn, darlin'. Lemme show you what I can do."

The feeling of his warm, bare hands on his skin made Lawrence suck in a breath that was half excited and half horrified. He put a firm hand on Axton's chest and pushed himself away, earning a puzzled look in response.

"I, um, already..." Lawrence glanced down at his crotch and flashed the other man a bashful look.

Realization dawned on Axton, who flashed him a huge, lecherous grin. "Just from suckin' me off? God, you..."

He drew him back in and kissed him, groaning at the taste of his own spunk on Lawrence's tongue. He lapped deeply, like he was trying to taste every last drop. If Lawrence hadn't already finished, that certainly would have been enough to push him over the edge.

As much as he loved making out with Axton, eventually Lawrence had to push him away again. "I'm going to clean myself up. There should still be some food waiting for you unless Krieg ate it all."

As if on cue, Axton's stomach gave a rumble. "All right," he said, leaning in to steal one last kiss. "Meet you at the car when you're done?"

Lawrence's eyes widened. "I'm coming with you?"

"Yeah, if you want. Figured you could at least drive the car, y'know?" Axton shrugged. "But I'm sure Ellie wouldn't mind if you hung out here 'til we got back - "

"No! I mean, no, I'd..." Lawrence cracked a somewhat relieved smile. "I can drive the car."

"Sweet." Axton went to leave, but paused to snag one more kiss from Lawrence. "Goddamn, I don't wanna stop kissin' you."

Lawrence chuckled and pushed him backwards with his finger. "There'll be time for that later," he promised. "Go eat. We've got a caravan to raid."

"Yessir."

Axton practically skipped back into the garage, leaving Lawrence to wash himself clean. He did so quickly, not wanting to touch more than he had to. By the time he had scrubbed himself raw and redressed, the others had already loaded up the truck and were saying goodbye to Ellie in the junkyard.

"Y'all come back now," she said cheerfully. "Preferably with news of a destroyed Hyperion caravan."

"You know us," Axton said, offering her a smile. "It won't be a problem, ma'am."

Ellie hummed in agreement, pinched both Axton and Lawrence on their butts for good luck, then sent them on their way.

"She's quite a woman," Lawrence whispered to the commando on the short trek to the truck. He was still rubbing the stinging sensation out of his right buttcheek.

"I'll say," Axton said through a wistful sigh. "I bet she's killer in the sack, too."

Lawrence's lips twisted into a grin. "You think about that a lot?"

Axton shrugged. "I wouldn't say 'a lot'. But I've definitely thought about it." He sent a wry smirk his way. "Why? You jealous?"

"Nah. I've thought about my fair share of certain people in Sanctuary, too."

"Yeah? Like who?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yeah, I would!" Axton said through a laugh as they climbed into the cab of the truck.

Lawrence took his place behind the wheel and pretended to be preoccupied with figuring out the fairly simple dashboard controls in front of him, but all of that went out the window the moment Axton leaned over to blow a raspberry into the exposed side of his neck.

"Agh, okay, okay!" he exclaimed, laughing as he shoved the other man back into his seat. "I mean, half of the people in Sanctuary are attractive, so I'd be lying if I haven't thought about someone at least once."

Axton hummed, only half satisfied, and sat with his arms folded across his broad chest. Lawrence thought about the expanse of flesh hiding beneath the layers of army garb and felt his throat go dry.

"I thought about you a lot," he blurted, feeling his face turn red as he shyly met the commando's gaze. "Like, an unholy amount, probably - especially after that one time we got drunk at Maya’s and got shoved in a closet together. I'm sorry, that - that's super creepy of me." He could have tossed in the excuse that not having any sexual interactions with anyone in literal years made it difficult not to fantasize, but he kept his mouth shut, fearing he had said too much already.

Instead of being disturbed, Axton flashed him an almost bashful half-grin. "It ain't creepy," he said. "Not unexpected either, considerin' how much I flirt with you."

"I suppose." Lawrence felt a great weight lift off his shoulders.

"We gonna get this show on the road or what?" Maya asked suddenly, slamming a fist down on the roof of the truck cab to get their attention. Both men jumped and sent her startled, irritated looks through the sunroof. She just smirked down at them. "Don't look at me that way. We're on a schedule here, remember? Talk about your manly problems later."

"Yeah, yeah," Axton grumbled, turning away to kick his feet up on the dash. He pouted for all of five seconds before he caught Lawrence's gaze and flashed him a quick smile.

With a grin of his own, Lawrence started the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	28. Chapter 28

Driving a modified bandit technical was a little strange at first. Lawrence was used to being thrust skyward when he initiated a boost, so the jolt he got when he activated it on the technical was both exhilarating and a relief.

Beside him, Axton yee-haw'd with glee. His enthusiasm was contagious; Maya and Krieg let out occasional whoops and, in Krieg's case, nonsensical yells, and soon enough Lawrence was joining them, laughing freely.

The Dust was easy enough to navigate, even with hordes of spider ants and the occasional asshole bandit crew attempting to ruin their day. His comrades easily took them all down, allowing Lawrence to focus on getting to their destination. At the speed they were going, it didn't take long. An hour and a half into their drive, the sight of a legitimate building rising up out of the dunes caught his eye.

"That it?" he asked Axton, gesturing towards it with a nod of his head.

"Yep. Good ol' Friendship Gulag," the commando replied through a sigh. "Spoiler alert: it's not a very friendly place."

"Dude, spoilers."

"Sorry." Axton grinned crookedly at him. "We're not goin' in there, though. There should be a fork in the road comin' up soon. Make a right and follow the road. Our stake-out point's at the end of it."

Lawrence did as he ordered. Said narrow, winding road lead up to a rundown church of all things - long deserted, save for the corpses buried beneath the loose dirt of the Dust and a few ill-fated bandits that had tried to make the churchyard their home. The three vault hunters made easy work of them.

Lawrence remained in the truck, dutifully not watching as they looted not only the dead bandits, but the graves that dotted the church's backyard as well. In their defense, a lot of the graves were actually just buried loot chests, but the fact that they were all willing to dig up what could have been someone's final resting place was unnerving, to say the least.

_Filthy bandits_ , Jack hissed quietly.

Lawrence viciously bit back the urge to agree with the disembodied voice. He had been just like them once too, eager for cash and loot. Just because he preferred not to pick up a gun these days didn't mean he was better or worse than these guys. Right? Morally, maybe he could be seen in a better light, but what good was morality on a planet that required you to shoot people if you wanted to survive? Did it make him weak for not wanting to defend himself?

_Stop thinking_ , Timothy suggested. That was some advice he was willing to take.

Eventually Axton came over to the driver's window, covered in dust and flecked with patches of gore. The grin on his face waned at the sight of him. "You okay? You're awfully pale, dude. More than usual. And you're doin' that thing you do when you're nervous."

"What thing?" Lawrence asked, pulling the edge of his thumb away from his mouth. Axton seized his hand and showed him where he'd been apparently gnawing on his nail to the point of bloodshed.

"Oh," Lawrence muttered, frowning down at the torn flesh. Damn, he thought he had outgrown his nail biting habit. Not being able to feel anything in his fingers definitely didn't help him refrain from doing that. "I'm okay. Just...anxious, I guess."

"Don't be. C'mere."

Lawrence followed Axton past the church towards the top of the hill, which, as they got down onto their bellies and inched closer and closer to it, turned out to be a steep cliff side that disappeared rather suddenly into the wide open desert below. Lawrence let out a strangled noise when he realized this and wiggled backwards until Axton put an arm around his shoulders, anchoring him. When the man offered him a pair of binoculars, he gladly accepted them, if to only take his mind off of how close to the edge they were.

"There's the gulag," Axton explained, pointing to the Hyperion prison that sat maybe a mile or so away. Lawrence sized the place up through the binoculars as Axton continued. "Our mark's gonna be comin' outta there and down that road soon. When we see 'em, we gotta charge over the hill here and take the caravan before they can escape or call for backup. Your job is - if you want it - to get us up close and personal with 'em."

Lawrence nodded. "I think I can do that," he said, handing the binoculars back.

"Cool," the commando said, grinning at him. He had a wad of dust coating his left cheek from where he'd laid it against the ground. "We've done this kinda thing a couple dozen times by now and usually the driver'll give up after we take out his friends. Should be quick and simple."

"Should be," Lawrence echoed with a wry smirk. "You know how good my luck is these days."

"Can't be any worse than what's already happened, right?"

Lawrence's mirth faded. "I hope not," he muttered, drawing his finger through the dust.

Axton seemed to realize that he only managed to bring the mood down and hurried to remedy it. "Wanna make out?" he blurted smartly.

It sort of worked. Lawrence sputtered out a small chuckle, which turned into a full-blown laugh when he glanced at the commando and found him grinning like a hopeful horny teenager. "Is that your solution to all your problems? Making out?"

"Only half of them." He shrugged. "Hell, it's how I wound up getting married."

"Liar." But Lawrence leaned over and kissed him anyway.

~

Lawrence was just getting comfortable in Axton's lap when Maya poked her head around the side of the church. They had sought shelter in the shade there shortly after Lawrence had granted Axton his wish for a make out session, but the place hadn't done them any favors in the way of privacy.

Maya didn't seem at all surprised to find them sucking face. "Tuck it back in, boys, our mark's on the move."

Axton jerked and turned red from something other than the heat of the day. "Do you have to phrase it like that?" he grumbled, but she merely grinned and left them to it.

Lawrence reluctantly got to his feet and offered the commando a hand up, which he readily accepted. They gravitated back towards each other immediately and would have continued to suck face had Maya not hollered at them from the truck to get their asses moving before they lost their target. The promise of looting a Hyperion caravan was enough to make Axton peel himself away from Lawrence, and together they hurried back to the vehicle.

"Move 'em out, ladies!" Axton exclaimed, leaping into the back of the truck alongside Maya and Krieg instead of taking a seat next to Lawrence.

Lawrence gripped the steering wheel as the commando's directions from earlier filtered back into his head. "Just...drive off the cliff here, right?" he asked them, peering at their knees through the rear-view mirror. "You sure that won't, uh, kill us?"

"Dude," Axton said, "you were shot out of a friggin' moon canon and lived to tell the tale. This should be cakewalk for you."

Lawrence hummed and put the car in drive. "Point."

He floored it, hoping to gain enough speed to actually land on the truck's wheels instead of nose-diving into the earth at the bottom of the cliff. Axton and Krieg howled with excitement and beat on the roof of the cab, which only spurned Lawrence to drive the vehicle harder.

The world dropped out from under him, and for a brief moment Lawrence levitated out of his seat, held down only by the seat belt stretched across his lap. He braced himself, but the impact still jostled him to the point where he nearly smashed his face against the steering wheel. His shoulder popped, but the stab of pain was fleeting and dampened by the surge of adrenaline pulsing in his veins. Above him came the sound of someone slamming into the roof of the cab, but the cackling that followed indicated that whoever it was - probably Krieg - was fine.

They had landed on all fours, Lawrence realized with an almost hysterical glee as he looked out the windshield. He'd done it right.

With a howl of his own, he slammed his foot down on the gas once more, sending the bandit technical roaring across the sands of the Dust. The Friendship Gulag loomed in the distance like a giant metal beacon of terror, but Lawrence felt no fear as it grew closer and closer. Adrenaline was a remarkable thing.

About three minutes later they crested another hill and almost came face-to-face with the Hyperion convoy. There were three cars total, with the bigger one being the main transport vehicle for the loot chests strapped to its roof. Lawrence cursed and turned the truck hard, bringing them alongside the convoy and allowing the others to open fire on everything but the main vehicle. A hail of bullets and the occasional phaselock orb quickly dispersed the smaller bastards in rather violent explosions of car parts and twisted metal.

In a matter of seconds, the main car, now thoroughly unarmed and vulnerable, screeched to a sudden halt, forcing Lawrence to do the same lest he ram the other dude. For a long moment, nothing moved, save for the clouds of dust kicked up by their vehicles and the smoke pouring out of the ruined cars that now dotted the sand in great smoldering chunks.

Lawrence released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. That had gone phenomenally better than he had expected.

"Just take what you want and go!" the driver wailed from the safety of his cab. "God, I hate this job...!"

The truck shook as its occupants jumped down from the bed. Lawrence remained behind the wheel and sank down in his seat, watching through wide-eyes as his comrades moved in on the Hyperion vehicle.

This was the closest he'd been to anything Hyperion since he'd been "given" to Nisha in Lynchwood. Lawrence expected anger and a lot of fear upon that realization, but instead all he felt was nervous. Not for himself, but for the man behind the wheel of the enemy vehicle. Working for Hyperion, Lawrence had gotten to see firsthand all of the poor bastards sloughing away at their jobs. Accountants, janitors, secretaries - he had seen bits and pieces of them all. Most of the poor saps in those positions were genuinely in it for the money and glory that came for working for Hyperion, but there were also those who had no choice.

Did this man have a family? he wondered, watching as Krieg went up to the driver's tinted window and gave it a punch, making the man squeal in terror. The behemoth made no move to actually break in there and attack the guy, but the possibility was all too real. Did he have a partner back on Helios? Young mouths to feed?

_Who cares?_ Timothy grumbled. Sometimes his presence in the back of Lawrence's mind was like an itch he couldn't scratch.

"Holy shit!" came Axton's cry, startling Lawrence out of his morbid thoughts. The commando was perched on the roof with the loot chests and had already gone through a few of them, but it appeared that the last chest contained the jackpot.

He held up what looked like a shotgun. A Hyperion shotgun, Lawrence realized, brows slowly rising in astonishment. He had seen it before on posters around Helios - the legendary Conference Call.

"Holy _shit_!" Axton said again, cackling with giddy disbelief. "Finally, one of these goddamn convoys carrying something legit! Thanks, buddy!" he called to the driver.

"N-no problem," came the weak reply, quickly followed by a scream of terror as Krieg broke through the window, exposing the poor man to the harsh Pandoran sun and Krieg's fists.

"Krieg, leave him alone," Maya said, half distracted by the shotgun in Axton's hands. "Lemme see that."

"Finders keepers!" the commando declared like a spoiled little brat, only to let out a shriek of his own as Maya wrenched the gun out of his hands with a flash of dark purple. The siren sent a ball of slag Axton's way as punishment for his shitty attitude, giving the commando no choice but to tumble off the roof face-first into the sand unless he wanted a mouthful of the toxic stuff.

Lawrence's curiosity got the better of him and forced him out of the vehicle. He made his way over to Maya slowly, like he was testing each step he took for landmines. His eyes darted between the cab of the convoy truck, half expecting to find Handsome Jack behind the wheel, but the driver never showed his face, still too traumatized by Krieg simply staring at him through the broken window. Content that he was safe so long as Krieg was standing there, Lawrence finally turned his attention back to the legendary gun sitting in Maya's hands.

"The Conference Call," he confirmed, more for himself than for Maya. The size, shape and coloring left no doubt in his mind that this was it. "Cool beans."

Maya smiled at him and gladly handed it over for him to inspect. It was too heavy in his hands and growing hotter with each passing second it was exposed to the sun, but he had to admit that it was pretty cool. He'd seen his share of legendaries on Elpis and Helios, but his teammates had often snatched them up before he could touch them. Which, really, he couldn't blame them for doing. Maybe if he'd been able to shoot straight half the time, they would have let him keep one.

"Do you want it?" Maya asked.

He arched a startled brow at her. "Me? No. Thank you," he said, handing the shotgun back to her. "It would go to waste in my hands."

"Because you're a poor shot or because you'd never use it?"

"Both." He shrugged. "Thanks for the offer, though." He sent a fake angry look in Axton's direction. "Nice to know someone's got some honor among the thieves here."

Axton poked his dusty head around the side of the convoy, pouting. "I would'a shared!"

Maya rolled her eyes. "Did you forget the deal we made in regards to legendaries? We each get one depending on our preferred weapon type - "

"I know," Axton grumbled, vigorously rubbing the dust out of his hair as he approached them. It was a futile effort; they were all covered in great splotches of the stuff. "I just wanted to hold it. Maybe shoot the driver to see how awesome it is."

Lawrence paled and felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead, this batch not caused by the heat of the Dust.

_Bandits_ , Jack reminded him. _I was right - I'm always right. When are you gonna start listening to me again, bucko?_

"Stop," Lawrence blurted. It hadn't been directed to his companions, but now that they were all looking at him questioningly, he had no choice but to hesitantly elaborate. "Th-the driver cooperated. We got the loot. There's no need to kill him, right?"

Maya and Axton sent each other confused looks. "I guess," Maya said slowly in reply, turning back to arch a befuddled brow at the other man. It was clear that they were both suspicious of his behavior, and really, he couldn't blame them. Who the hell offered mercy on this planet?

_Way to alienate yourself, kid,_ Jack said, sounding entirely too pleased. _Keep this up and they'll either be banishing you from that floating cesspool of a city or slaughtering you like they do to everyone else that pisses 'em off._

Lawrence swallowed hard and took a step away from the vault hunters. But there was nowhere to run out here, nowhere to go to escape. What would he even be running from? The voices in his head? The armed mercenaries standing in front of him? Hyperion? Fuck, _himself_?

_This isn't my world_ , Timothy was murmuring frantically, back to being that annoying itch in the back of Lawrence's skull. _I don't belong here. I'm a nerdy farm boy from Eden, not a murdering psychopathic -_

_Bandit_ , Jack finished for him. _You're not a bandit, kiddo. You're too good for that. You're better than these freaks._

Lawrence gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would somehow shut the two disembodied voices up. It only seemed to make things worse; all he could focus on were Timothy's screaming about wanting to go home and Jack's cackles and insults about his broken brain and miserable life -

"Law!" Axton's voice sliced through the chaos in his mind.

Lawrence opened his eyes, allowing the tears that had gathered in their corners to flow freely down his scarred cheeks. He gaped at the two concerned vault hunters. Words failed him.

"What happened?" Axton demanded, sounding angry and perhaps even a little cautious, if the minute trembling of his voice was any indication. "What's _wrong_ , bro?"

Lawrence flinched at his barking tone and took a few stumbling steps back, which only seemed to upset Axton further. Before he could react, Maya stepped between them and took Lawrence's limp hand, bringing it to rest a few inches below her collarbone.

"Breathe with me," she said. Her chest inflated with a deep breath of air; Lawrence could feel the skin and muscles reacting beneath his palm. That distracted him for a brief second before he snapped out of it and hurried to echo her breaths. It was only then that he realized just how erratic his breathing was; he could only seem to suck in rapid gasps instead of the deep breaths Maya was doing.

"Breathe," Maya urged again, giving his wrist a squeeze. "Just like we do when we meditate."

He nodded more times than necessary and focused on feeling her inhales and exhales. The voices faded into whispers into the back of his mind as he became obsessed with carrying out her simple order. His pulse began to steady, his breaths becoming longer and deeper, until finally they were breathing in unison. They stayed that way for a long while, just breathing in Pandora's rancid air, before Maya gave his wrist another squeeze and pulled away. She offered him a smile and gently released her hold on him, letting his arm slide back into place at his side.

"Let's get back to Ellie's," she suggested, turning to the other men. "We've got guns to sell and payment to collect."

Axton, pale and thin-lipped, nodded stiffly and trudged back to the truck, his destination the driver's seat. Lawrence hesitantly followed, being sure to keep his distance as he hauled himself into the truck bed. Embarrassment had effectively replaced his panic, making him shy away from everyone, including Krieg when he joined him in the back.

Jack was cackling faintly in the back of his head. _They think you're crazy! Oh man, as if that commando prick would ever really wanna be with a nutjob like you!_

Lawrence sighed and shut his eyes.

~

He stayed in the truck while the others reported the mission status to Ellie at her garage. They didn't plan on spending the night again, so as soon as they had their reward money, they would be off for Sanctuary. Until then, Lawrence was content to cower in the truck bed with his knees drawn to his chest and his mind kept carefully blank. The voices were quiet for now, having had their fill of insanity earlier, but Lawrence wasn't about to take any chances in waking them up.

A few minutes later, Axton appeared at the foot of the truck bed, his expression tight. "Can we talk?"

Lawrence nodded and scooted over for him even though there was already plenty of room. Axton sat down close enough for their shoulders to brush, but he still kept some space between them, like he was afraid of smothering Lawrence or something.

"I didn't mean to upset you," the commando said quietly after the silence between them became too much. "I was just worried."

"I know. It's not your fault I'm fucked up."

"You're not - "

"Stop." Lawrence picked his head up and sent Axton a solemn look. "I am, okay? And in my opinion, admitting it is better than trying to trick myself into thinking that I'm not broken. I can at least work towards trying to fix myself, eventually."

Axton's lips twisted, but in the end he had to nod in agreement. "Do you think there's like...I dunno, medication you can take?"

"I dunno. I did take anti-depressants and shit after the plastic surgery." Lawrence brought his thumb to his mouth and began to nibble on it. "Didn't help with the voices any 'cos they weren't around until after I woke up. So I dunno, maybe there's something, but how would I even get any down here?"

Axton reached over and gently pulled his arm away from his face. "These days Dr. Zed collects organs for the black market, but he might have a drug or two stashed away that might be somethin' you could use."

Lawrence hummed. He wasn't sure if he actually wanted to pump drugs back into his veins. He had been on so many back in the day; they were annoying and he couldn't safely drink with them and sometimes they made him nauseous. Still, if they could help him get through one day without sarcastic advice from one or more of his current unwanted brain-tenants, he would give it a shot.

"Okay," he said eventually.

Axton offered him a smile and a gentle squeeze on his knee. “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another quick thank you to everyone who's commented/kudos'd/read this story! :') You guys are great.

Lawrence was almost relieved when Dr. Zed couldn't fork over any drugs for fixing his broken noggin. Without a legitimate diagnosis, there wasn’t much that could be done for him, or so Dr. Zed had proclaimed. He had quite an array of stuff stashed away in the nooks and crannies of his office in Sanctuary, and even offered Lawrence some of the more "interesting" ones free of charge, but he graciously turned the doctor down.

"Nothin'?" Axton asked him the moment he stepped out of the office. He had declined going inside, saying that the place gave him the creeps.

Lawrence shook his head. "We don’t know what’s wrong with me, so that kind of limits what I can take,” he said.

“Zed didn’t try to make some educated guesses?”

“He’s good at mending broken bones, not broken noggins,” Lawrence said, parroting the doctor’s exact words to him. “He has a point. I don’t want to be taking medication for one thing and wind up getting messed up even more than I am.”

Despite this dead end, Lawrence was feeling pretty good. The voices had been quiet since their outburst yesterday, his urge to tear into the nearest chunk of Eridium was probably the lowest it has ever been, and he was relatively safe back in Sanctuary. "Relatively" because they had yet to see Lilith, who would probably do more than just chew them out for disobeying her orders, but Lawrence was content to not think about that for the time being. His mood was too good to be spoiled just yet.

It was Axton who was clearly worried, if his deepening frown was any indication. His concern was touching. A lot of people shrugged off mental problems as being imaginary or just an excuse. It was such a relief that Axton wasn’t one of them.

Lawrence held out his closed fist to the commando and smiled. "Hold this for me?"

"Sure, what..."

Axton held out his hand, and Lawrence placed his fist into the center of it. He opened his palm and laced his fingers through Axton's.

Lawrence was convinced that no amount of dick-sucking would ever make Axton's face turn as red as it was now. "Oh," the commando said lamely. A huge, silly grin split his face in two as he gave Lawrence's hand a squeeze. "That - that was entirely too smooth, dude."

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

"If you two are done being lame."

Both men whirled around and jumped apart at the sight of Lilith standing a few feet from them, her hands on her hips and her fiery eyes narrowed into little accusing slits. She was clearly angry, but nowhere near as pissed off as Lawrence expected her to be. She hadn't busted out the flaming wings, at any rate.

"Lilith," Axton began quietly, like he was trying to coax a wild animal into not attacking, "I can explain."

"What's to explain? You and your boyfriend took a little joyride on Pandora after I explicitly said he wasn't allowed to leave town. Not exactly rocket science."

Axton's face flushed and twisted with irritation. “He helped us out on a mission,” he said through gritted teeth. “It wasn't like he was alone, and he didn't try to run or put up a fight about coming back to Sanctuary. What's the big deal?"

Lilith's eyes flashed - literally. "The 'big deal' is that I gave orders and they were disobeyed," she snapped. "How do I know I can depend on you two to be there to help out in this war if you don’t listen to me?"

Lawrence could have brought up many things to fight about then, but he was tired from the long drive back, Axton was ten seconds away from exploding on Lilith for treating him like an infant, and honestly, he was just too old for this kind of bullshit anymore.

"We're sorry," he said, cutting Axton off before he could go off on a tirade. "It won't happen again."

Lilith didn't look at all convinced and Axton looked ready to throw something down, probably his fists, but Lawrence snagged him by the sleeve and pulled him away from the siren, down the alleyway towards Scooter's garage. He had intended to drag the soldier all the way back to his hostel room, but Axton wrenched his arm out of his grasp and turned away from him, visibly heaving with rage.

"What's the matter?" Lawrence murmured. He hadn't seen Axton this mad since he had told the Sanctuary crew about his time spent working for Handsome Jack.

Axton let out a disgruntled sigh. "I don't exactly have a clean track record when it comes to following orders," he growled. "It's one of the reasons why I got discharged from the army. I didn't come to this shitty planet to take orders, and I sure as hell didn't come here to fight in a war. I was lured in with the promise of a vault! Treasure and glory and hot women and sometimes dudes!" He shook his head, scowling. "I dunno, it's just pissin' me off that this shit's happenin’. And I know it ain't Lilith's fault, but damn, sometimes she just gets under my skin."

He was muttering to himself now, just spitting out whatever issue came to mind. Lawrence bit his lip, suddenly aware of the fact that while Axton had been babying him, the guy had been swimming in his own problems, too.

Wanting to make it up to him, Lawrence slowly approached Axton from behind and gave his tense shoulders a squeeze. He placed his lips close to the commando's ear and breathed, "We're in Sanctuary now."

Axton grunted, slightly distracted by Lawrence's massaging hands. "Yeah," he agreed.

"Your hostel room is a block away."

"Yeah..." Axton got tense all over again when he realized what Lawrence was getting at. He cast the man a wide-eyed look from over his shoulder. Lawrence merely grinned, the implication clear.

Wordlessly Axton seized him by the hand and broke out in a full-out run for the hostel. Lawrence sputtered out a startled, breathless laugh and hurried to keep up with the man. They made quite the sight, sprinting through the streets like a pair of kids just released for summer vacation. Boyish giggles and exclamations erupted from them as they weaved and dodged around the city's bewildered occupants, until finally the hostel appeared at the end of the street, a welcoming sight after being on the road for almost a week.

As youthful as they'd felt during their sprint across town, both of them were gasping and wheezing like old men by the time they made it up the stairs to Axton's second floor room. The commando apparently didn't bother with locking the door - who in their right mind would try to steal from a vault hunter? - and wasted little time in kicking it open, revealing the unholy mess that was typical of a bachelor mercenary. Lawrence would assess the room later. Right now, he was entirely focused on getting Axton out of his clothes and onto the bed.

Axton seemed all too eager to help him accomplish this. Their lips met almost instantly in a wild, biting kiss that put all of their previous ones to shame. They danced in a flurry around the room, spurned by the desperate attempt to rid each other of their clothes, yet for the first thirty seconds all they did was knock a bunch of shit off the lone dresser, slam the door shut when Axton pushed Lawrence into it, and almost break their ankles when they stumbled over everything that had been knocked askew.

They parted for air eventually, gasping and laughing even as their hands continued to frantically wander. Lawrence tugged at the commando's shirt insistently, a silent promise to rip the goddamn thing off if Axton didn't help him out with all the stupid buckles and straps. The commando quickly shrugged his way out of it and didn't protest when Lawrence's shaking hands shot to his belt, tearing the strip of leather clean off him in one solid yank of his arm.

"Kinky," Axon said with an appropriate eyebrow wiggle. "At least wait until _after_ I've taken off my pants to spank me with that."

Lawrence arched a brow at him. "I wasn't going to spank you," he admitted, "but I'll keep that in mind for later."

"Please do."

Axton kicked off his boots and finished removing his britches, tossing them over his shoulder to join the rest of the discarded clothes spread all over the floor. The commando now stood before Lawrence stark naked and gorgeous. The term "Greek God" came to mind, though it wasn't often one came across artwork of mythical beings that were covered in crisscrossing scars from bullets and shrapnel alike. He was mostly muscle, and there was a smattering of dark brown hair that covered his chest and made a happy trail down his stomach to his groin.

God, Lawrence loved happy trails.

"Is touching you still gonna cost me?" he teased, bringing his eyes back up to meet Axton's gaze. His face was beginning to hurt from the magnitude of his grin.

"Good news for you," Axton said, sounding breathless as he snagged Lawrence by the wrist and brought his hand to one of his pecs. His flesh was warm and clammy with sweat, and his heart was beating so hard against his rib cage that Lawrence was sure it was about to pop into his hand. "I've got a week-long special going on. Free samples all day every day. Get 'em while they're hot."

Lawrence's fingers found the man's nipple. "You're such a dweeb."

"Says the dork who pulled that dumb hand holding trick."

"You liked it."

"Yeah I did." Axton bit his lip as Lawrence flicked and rubbed at the pink nub, abusing it until it was an even darker shade of pink and erect. "I like this, too."

"What else do you want me to do to you?" Lawrence asked softly.

"Anything. Everything. Fuck, I don't care, just get your mouth on me."

That he could do. Lawrence extended a finger and slowly pushed Axton backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. The man fell with a heavy exhale and bounced a little against the shitty hostel mattress. He gazed up at Lawrence through wide, lust-filled eyes, and Lawrence wanted to climb on top of him and ravish him until they passed out.

Instead, Lawrence settled between his legs and quickly got to work. Axton was already hard and ready for him, and Lawrence was too revved up to bother with a lot of foreplay. He licked a long line up the commando's cock, kissed the tip of it, then swallowed half of it whole. It took a moment to get into a rhythm, mostly because Axton's hips were jerking uncontrollably at the sudden contact, but Lawrence held him down and began to bob his head with increasing gusto.

Axton rumbled in appreciation and let his head fall back against the mattress. His hands came to rest on Lawrence’s head like they had the day prior, petting and carding through his hair he bobbed. Lawrence was discovering quite quickly that he enjoyed the sensation - the tingles it sent up and down his spine and the swelling in his chest that resulted from the quiet praises spilling out of Axton's mouth. Sex with Axton - so far, at any rate - was turning out to be better than all the other intimate experiences he'd had in his pathetic life.

He shuddered at the thought of actually fucking this man, and vice versa. God, he hoped he'd get the chance to do both.

Jack snorted out a laugh.  _The hell are you tryin' to kid, sunshine?_

Shut up, Lawrence thought back as he began to fondle Axton's balls. He could dream, couldn't he?

“Fingers,” Axton eventually gasped, spreading his legs a few more inches. He fumbled with something on the bedside table. “Gimme your fingers, too.”

Obediently Lawrence wrapped a hand around the base of Axton’s cock and began to pump it alongside his bobbing head, but the commando merely grunted a negative and lifted his leg, exposing every last inch of himself to the other man. In that same instance, Axton set a half-used bottle of lube down on the mattress next to him.

Lawrence swallowed around Axton’s cock, now acutely aware that he was drooling.

It didn't take long to get the commando to come once Lawrence got two slick fingers inside him. He resisted at first, even tried to push Lawrence off his cock as he gasped out, "Law, wait, wait, I wanna touch you, need you - fuck, fuck - "

Lawrence swallowed dutifully around the commando as he came. Perhaps it was a little cruel of him not to pull off like Axton had asked, but he quickly decided it was worth it as Axton tossed his head back with a hoarse cry, his fists clenching the sheets so hard that they tore. It was an image Lawrence would do his damnedest to keep in his memory until the end of time.

Axton's back remained arched clean off the mattress long after he'd come. When he finally collapsed, still panting and trembling like he'd run a marathon, his expression was one of pure bliss. "Thas' it," he slurred, blinking slowly up at the ceiling. "I'm quittin'. No more vault huntin'. Jus' this all day ev'ry day. Good god."

Lawrence chuckled as he crawled his way up the mattress. "Glad I could help you reach that decision."

"What 'bout you?" Axton slurred even as his eyes were slipping shut. The man had lost a rock-paper-scissors battle with Maya and had driven most of the way back to Sanctuary. He was probably getting slammed even harder with exhaustion now that the adrenaline from his desire was gone, too.

"I'm okay," Lawrence told him quietly. "Get some sleep."

Axton grumbled something and rolled onto his side, allowing Lawrence to scoot up behind him and tentatively spoon him. The unsure part of Lawrence’s brain warned him that he might be overstepping a boundary, but Axton readily leaned back into his space, welcoming the warm body along his spine.

A wave of relief swept through Lawrence, along with the realization that he was lying in Axton’s bed, in his hostel room, for the first time ever. Somehow, that was far more intimate than sticking the man’s cock down his throat. It left him blushing and biting his lip in an attempt to hide his dumb, giddy smile.

He wasn’t sure what he imagined Axton’s place to look like - dirty, probably, with clothes tossed around and stacks of ammo and gun parts spread out on every surface. There was some of that, but nowhere near the amount Lawrence figured. Maybe he was wrong. There was still so much about Axton that he didn’t know. And he wanted to know everything.

He propped himself up on an elbow and peered around Axton’s tanned shoulder to get a glimpse of the side of his handsome face. His breathing had long leveled out with sleep. The commando snored, Lawrence noted, resting his lips on his shoulder.

“Cute,” he murmured against Axton’s skin.

Axton snorted and rolled backwards slightly, bringing them flush together. “No sir, I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout birthin’ babies,” he muttered through a heavy sigh.

Snored _and_ talked in his sleep. That was either going to be fun or get very annoying very fast.

Soon enough Lawrence felt his own excitement began to wane as it was overcome by the same degree of exhaustion that had seized his partner. The promise of a decent night's sleep in a legitimate bed was, at least for now, far more enticing than the idea of release. The fact that he was nestled up with one of the few people he trusted on this planet just made it easier for him to relax and let himself drift off.

~

As nice and safe as the company made him feel, his brain still found the time to torment him through his dreams. There was fire, so much fire, and a pulsating purple light that seared through him straight into his soul, scorching it far worse than any flame could. He could hear the carnage around him, feel it in his bones, but couldn’t stop whatever catastrophe was happening.

He awoke sometime later with a hoarse scream dying in his throat and the smell of rancid cadavers in his nostrils. He slapped a hand over his mouth as his stomach heaved with nausea, but thankfully nothing came up. The last thing he wanted to do was vomit all over Axton's bed.

Rolling over revealed the commando to be fine, still asleep and snoring rather loudly into the pillow beneath his head. A heavy sigh escaped Lawrence as he forced himself to lie back down. He couldn't recall much about the dream other than the awful sensations that came with it, which wasn't at all fair. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest and he couldn't remember the cause of it.

It doesn't matter, he concluded eventually, forcing his eyes closed. It was just a dream. Dreams didn't mean anything.

~

It was pretty obscene how much Axton and Lawrence went at it in the following days. There was a sense of juvenile freedom, of throwing everything to the wind and diving into something that had, at one point, been seemingly forbidden for both men.

Despite this urgency, they still took things slow. Both men were hesitant to leap right into penetrative sex as of yet, so they started off by using their hands and mouths to explore the nooks and crannies of each other's bodies. Usually they wound up clinging to each other and bumping and grinding until they were left gasping each other's names into flushed, sweaty skin, too revved up to do much else. For two days they touched each other and they ate and they slept, often in that order.

But Lawrence was careful. He would allow Axton to get him down to a shirt and his shorts, but always managed to distract him before he could get those off him. If Axton managed to touch him, it was only because the lights were off and neither of them could see much of each other. It wasn't that he didn't want Axton to see - the man clearly had no problems with scars or mutations or the fact that Lawrence looked like the guy who tried to kill him and his friends on multiple occasions.

It was Lawrence who had issues, issues that he had ignored so viciously over the past couple of years that he had nearly convinced himself that there wasn't a problem here. It was fine that he didn't want Axton to see him naked. It was fine that Axton had only managed to blow him once in the middle of the night, had only gotten him shirtless maybe twice. It was fine that sometimes he didn't get off and told Axton it was fine, that he was too tired or already got off or some other filthy lie. It was fine. Everything was _fine_.

_You're a goddamn lunatic!_ Jack crowed on the morning of the third day. Axton was sprawled across the bed in front of Lawrence, murmuring and gasping as Lawrence worked his cock with his mouth. _You've been hard since last night! Your balls are gonna explode, you idiot!_

He's happy and that's all that matters, Lawrence thought, sucking particularly in a way that, as he had learned during the days of exploration, would make the commando's toes curl.

"Fuck! God - darlin', you're so goddamn good," Axton nearly wailed, his voice rough with morning drowsiness in addition to the intensity of his cries. His neighbors probably hated them by now, but neither man cared.

_Sorry, I gotta agree with the tyrant on this_ , Timothy said, sounding like he was shaking his head in disappointment. _Y_ _ou trust this guy more than anything. Just let him touch you!_

Lawrence's brow furrowed with irritation. Determined to block out the voices in his head, he snagged Axton's hand and brought it to the top of his scalp. He locked eyes with the commando and let his throat go slack, his intention clear. He had managed to do this once before for Axton, and the man had come so hard he had been literally knocked out for a few minutes. Hopefully it would happen again this time.

No such luck.

"Wait," Axton said, moving his hand from Lawrence's hair to his shoulder in an effort to get him to sit up. "I got a better idea. Turn 'round and straddle me. I can suck yours while you - "

"No," Lawrence blurted, immediately trying to cover up his blunt answer with a mirthless laugh. "This is fine. I-I like doing this for you."

Axton frowned and stared at him for a long, tense moment. He had flashed him a suspicious look or two during the course of their romping, but had let them go without issue, mostly because Lawrence's mouth or hands had been too good to argue with. Now, Lawrence felt the dick in his hand starting to go soft despite his urgent pumping.

The commando shook his head and dislodged himself from Lawrence's grip. "Nah, ain't happenin'," he grumbled, moving to sit on the side of the bed so he could put on his pants. "Come find me when you're really ready to tango."

"What?" Lawrence hissed, confused and growing pretty angry himself. "I'm ready to tango _now_ , you prick - "

"Look, Law," Axton snapped viciously as he whirled on him, "Handsome Jack's dead. You're the only one in the world who looks like this. That's the only body you got now. This is how you're gonna look from now until the day you die, and until you're comfortable with that fact, I can't - I can't do this with you anymore. I'm sorry."

Lawrence stared at him, stunned into silence.

Axton quickly finished getting dressed, grabbed his gear, and left the room without another word.

Lawrence sat on the bed for a long time, numb and reeling from the bomb Axton had dropped on him. Everything he had said was true, of course, but hearing it so bluntly and all at once certainly didn't help Lawrence to instantly accept it. That was like telling an asthmatic to "just breathe" when they were in the midst of an attack - unfair and impossible. 

_But it's not impossible_ , Timothy told him.  _You've been avoiding this subject for so long, Lawrence. Now's your chance to tackle it head-on._

_You're joking!_ Jack snickered cruelly.  _You realize who you're talking to, right? Mister 'I haven't looked in a mirror for over five years because the sight of my own face makes me want to punch things' -_

_Shut up!_

Lawrence let the two assholes have at it for a while, until their arguing became nothing but white noise in the back of his brain. It was in that long moment of silence that Lawrence was able to come to a very simple conclusion.

"This is stupid," he decided, then made his way into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest: there wasn't supposed to be a legitimate smut scene in this chapter. But I wanted to do something special for y'all since you guys have been so nice to me, so enjoy this special Extended Edition. ;w; See you in space hell, lovelies.

The bathroom in Axton’s hostel flat was small and shitty like the rest of the buildings in this floating city, but it did sport a floor-length mirror that was only half cracked and only mostly dirty. A quick scrub with some damp toilet paper fixed one of those problems.

Lawrence paused halfway through scrubbing and locked eyes with his reflection. It was strange how he had managed over the years to completely stop seeing himself in reflective surfaces. A defense mechanism, he knew now. It had made life easier.

He forced himself to look now. He was still pretty hideous, if he was being honest. Scars took up most of his face, the most noticeable being the vault symbol that claimed his prominent cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. His dead eye was scary to look at, considering it was just this sightless, purple-white orb stuck in his eye socket. He didn’t really notice the fact that he was half blind. Yeah, his depth perception was a little wonky, but at least he could see at all.

He touched the purple marks that surrounded his eyes and traced the swirl that disappeared over his brow and into his hairline. He figured he should be glad that the Eridium hadn't spread to the rest of his face. He doubted anyone would take him seriously if he was just this gross purple monster.

Though, as gross as he was, he had to admit something: he resembled very little of the tyrant that almost destroyed Pandora. People had told him this, of course, but he had been so loathe to believe them, thinking they were just trying to make him feel better about his shitty life.

His facial structure was basically the same, though there were a few differences here and there that drew the resemblance away in little pieces. His goatee, flecked with silver hairs, had filled out the rest of his chin, and there was a stubble across the rest of his jaw. Facial hair was something that Jack had never seemed to be able to grow, even before the mask.

Lawrence was in the process of growing his hair out into a mane of wild curls - the way it had been before. His roots were red, he noted with glee, but the rest of his hair, especially around his temples, was streaked with gray. It made him look so much older than he was, but at least it helped him look less like Jack.

_Stop it_ , Timothy snapped. _Stop comparing yourself to Jack. Just look at_ you.

Lawrence took a breath and began to disrobe, struggling to keep his eyes on the mirror. He was pale, he noted, and couldn't suppress the cry of joy that escaped him when he noticed the faint clusters of freckles dotting across his shoulders. A closer look at his face revealed that there were a few sprinkled across the unmarred portion of his nose and cheeks as well.

"Fuck you," he said through a wet laugh. Fuck you, Handsome Jack. Fuck you, Hyperion.

His glee faded a little as he began to investigate the rest of his body. His pale chest was sunken, his ribs more prominent than he was comfortable with, and his stomach had gone soft around the edges. Maybe he could ask someone to help him get back in shape, he thought. Maya did these elaborate stretch routine every other day, and there was a weight room on the upper floor of the Crimson Raiders HQ that Axton frequented. He made a mental note to ask both of them for some help.

Lawrence shed his pants and took several deep, cleansing breaths in preparation for what was probably going to be the hardest thing to look at. His thighs were just as pale as the rest of him and shared the same amount of dark hair as his chest and forearms, which pleased him.

His crotch, on the other hand, needed a good trim. Jack had preferred to be mostly clean shaven down there and had seen to it that Lawrence was more or less the same when it came to which parts of him were smooth.

But Jack wasn't the boss of him anymore. He could be as hairy as he wanted. He could let his hair grow out and his freckles come back.

Those thoughts brought a smile to his face. He looked a little better when he smiled, he noted, cracking a full-on grin at his reflection. It immediately faded when he noted the gap where his one bicuspid used to be before Jack kicked it out of his mouth. He poked the gap with his tongue, shaken, and made a mental note to learn to smile with his mouth shut from now on. He knew nobody else gave a crap about it, but now it was going to bug him until the day he died. Great.

Depressed again, he returned to the rest of his body, taking note of the faint scars that dotted his flesh in places. He had accumulated most from his romping around on Elpis. There was a gash in his calf from a kraggon's claws, and a patch of uneven flesh on his knee from where he’d fallen too close to a pool of lava. He traced the thin line across his abdomen a few inches to the right of his belly button, remembering that goddamned space herps incident on Helios and cursing Lazlo for sending him and Athena on that stupid mission. Each mark told a story, even the ones on his face. Some were nastier than others. Some he didn't remember getting. All of them made him who he was today.

And really, he wasn't all that bad. He was a survivor, first and foremost, and his scars, especially the ones he couldn't see, proved it.

His eye darted down to the patch of wild hair at his groin. He could at least do something about _that_ before he and Axton started to tango for real. He wasn't a goddamn animal.

~

Axton was back by the end of the day, so Lawrence didn’t have to suffer for long. The commando opened the door and slowly made his way inside, dumping his gear in a pile by the door. He was visibly exhausted from whatever missions he’d gone on, but Lawrence noted he was toting a shiny new gun that probably made up for it.

Axton glanced up and apparently didn't expect to see Lawrence still in his room, if his widening eyes were any indication. "Hey," he said softly. Lawrence could tell that he was feeling bad about his earlier outburst, but he wouldn't let him apologize for dropping the much-needed truth bomb.

"Hey," Lawrence said with equal softness. "Can we talk?"

"Yeah." Axton sat down on the edge of the bed with him. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging some wayward dust and grime that fluttered down into his lap. "Listen, Law, I - "

"No. Don't apologize," Lawrence said firmly. "Everything you told me was true. I was hiding my body. I was hiding it from you. I was hiding it from myself. I'd grown to hate everything about it because I looked like the guy I'd come to hate so much. But I looked in the mirror today, for the first time in, like, forever."

"Yeah?"

Lawrence nodded and choked on a wet laugh as he touched the tips of his fingers to his cheeks. "My freckles came back," he said, grinning. "And my roots are red."

Axton cracked a small smile. "They are," he agreed, reaching out to tug on a wayward curl.

Lawrence took a deep breath as he rose to his feet and began to disrobe. It didn't take long to toss off his t-shirt and boxers, exposing himself in all his naked, scarred glory to the other man. Pangs of self-consciousness jabbed him between his ribs, but not because he was walking around in the body of Handsome Jack. He was a little embarrassed at how wimpy he was and told Axton as much.

“We can exercise together, yeah,” Axton said, clearly distracted by the body in front of him.

With a small smile, Lawrence took Axton's hands and brought them to his hips, wordlessly giving him permission to touch. The man visibly swallowed as he caressed the pale flesh. His thumbs traced circles along his sharp hip bones. Lawrence sucked in a small breath when the commando's tongue darted out of his mouth, unfortunately licking his dry lips instead of the skin in front of him.

"Can I see you?" he asked, picking his head up to meet Lawrence's confused gaze.

"See...?"

Axton actually turned a little pink and averted his eyes. "Touch yourself," he mumbled. "I wanna see you, like, embrace this body. You need to love it before I do."

Lawrence's face turned an even darker shade of red. "That was poetic," he commented, impressed despite the storm raging inside him just from hearing the man drop the l-word.

"Shut up," the commando grumbled as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the skin in front of him. "I can be romantic, too. I was married once, remember?"

Only every time the light caught on that diamond ring hanging from his neck. Lawrence didn't say that out loud, though, too distracted by the feeling of the man's lips skittering across his stomach. Axton's hands had weaseled their way underneath his shirt once or twice before, but not having to worry about him seeing his body anymore left Lawrence actually able to appreciate the sensation of being touched.

It was so glorious that he didn't protest when Axton snagged him by his hands and pulled him into the bathroom. He sat down on the toilet and pulled Lawrence into his lap, putting them directly within the line of sight of the mirror Lawrence had been gazing into not too long ago.

Lawrence was momentarily rendered frozen by the sight of his own body again, but Axton's presence behind him was a welcome anchor. He got comfortable in the commando's lap, unconsciously spreading his legs in an effort to balance better on Axton's thighs.

Axton hummed, his eyes on Lawrence's crotch. "You shaved," he said, dragging a lazy finger over the smooth flesh surrounding Lawrence's cock.

"Just for you."

"Do it for yourself next time. Or don't."

The commando withdrew his hand, leaving Lawrence to slump against him, already far too stimulated. If a simple touch drove him up the wall like that, he shuddered to think what sensations would consume him once Axton really put his hands on him.

Lawrence's own hand was shaking when he grasped his half-hard cock. He brought it to full-mast easily enough, especially when he tore his gaze away from his body and glanced at Axton in the mirror. His chin was perched on Lawrence's shoulder, his eyes a sharp gray as they met his gaze head-on.

"Don't pay attention to me," his whispered, moving to kiss the back of his neck. "Pretend I'm not here if it helps."

"I want you here," Lawrence said breathlessly. His strokes grew faster as his eyes locked with the commando's in the mirror. The pit of desire that had been stewing in his gut was back with a vengeance in a matter of seconds, causing a cold sweat to break out on his brow and at the top of his spine. Axton began to lap it up, humming.

"Oh," Lawrence whimpered, jerking his hips gently in time with his hand. The rough material of Axton's pants felt absurdly good against his bare ass, prompting him to grind back against him in between thrusts.

"Look at you," Axton hissed, scraping his teeth against the shell of Lawrence's ear. "Fuck, you're gorgeous, Law."

The praise quite literally shoved Lawrence over the edge. He normally would have been embarrassed - he'd been touching himself for what, three minutes? - but he didn't give a shit at that moment as he arched and cried out and painted the front of his chest with his spunk. Axton wrapped his arms around his shoulders to steady him and hissed dirty, lewd things into his ear as he thrashed, the aftershocks of his orgasm almost as powerful as the event itself.

Finally he came down. Lawrence slumped against the commando, his flushed chest heaving and his mind blessedly blank as it struggled to reset itself. He didn't protest when Axton scooped him into his arms and brought him back to the bed. He melted into the pillows, shivering, and hummed with appreciation when Axton came back from the bathroom with a damp cloth that he used to wipe the come of his chest. It was clear that Axton was going to let him get some sleep, but that was the farthest thing from Lawrence's mind now. Axton had seen him, all of him, and Lawrence was no longer afraid.

"I want to have sex with you," he told the other man before he could retreat.

Axton waggled his eyebrows and leaned in. "Does this mean I can suck your dick with the light on for once?"

"More than just that." Lawrence breathed in a semi-frantic breath as he fisted the front of Axton's shirt and pulled him down.

Lawrence drew him into a kiss that started out tender, but quickly fell apart into something messy and halfway animalistic, with clacking teeth and wandering hands. It wasn’t fair that Lawrence was the only one naked, so he began to rip at the commando’s uniform, urging him out of it.

Chuckling, Axton shucked off the rest of his clothes and flopped down on top of him, knocking some of the air out of his lungs. Instinctively Lawrence went to wrap his arms around the commando's broad shoulders, marveling at how the guy was all muscle and scar tissue, firm and warm. His hands traveled up to his scalp where he ran his fingers through Axton's hair, wishing he could feel the contrasting roughness of the section that was buzzed and the top part that was all fluff. Axton seemed to appreciate the ministrations, at least, if his rumbling was any indication. He shifted against Lawrence, showing him that a certain part of his anatomy was also very appreciative of the gentle touches.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Lawrence murmured, moving his thigh between the commando's to rub at him. "Not yet."

Axton snickered, his voice muffled by Lawrence's shoulder. "When I'm through with you, you'll be the one out cold."

"Oh yeah?" Lawrence grinned into the other man's hair. "You think you're that good, huh?"

"Think nothin’ - I _am_ that good."

Lawrence took a deep breath. "Prove it."

Slowly Axton picked his head up to look at him, no doubt looking for any sign of deceit or reluctance. His expression was stoic, but there was a glint in his eye that excited Lawrence in more ways than one. He must have looked as eager as he felt, because Axton was quickly leaning down to kiss him.

Lawrence swallowed his kiss and returned it with an eager one of his own. He wasn’t exactly a sixteen year old kid anymore, but his body was sure responding like one at the moment. A few more frantic kisses and gropes and grinds was all he needed to be back on board.

Axton moved away from his mouth and began to suck wet kisses into the side of Lawrence’s neck, paying special attention to the scars that littered the pale flesh. There would surely be bruises come morning, Lawrence knew, thrilled at the thought.

Axton kept descending down Lawrence’s body, pausing here and there to lick and kiss and bite, but soon enough he got impatient and jumped to his destination. Lawrence bit back a groan as Axton’s hands came to rest on his bony hips - so close and yet so far.

“I’m not as good at this as you are,” Axton warned, grinning up at him as he settled between his legs. “But I promise my enthusiasm’ll more than make up for it.”

Lawrence choked out a laugh that quickly turned into a moan he couldn’t contain as Axton went to town almost immediately, swirling his tongue around the tip of his cock like it was a goddamned lollipop. He toyed with it for a bit, smacking the head of it against his hot tongue until Lawrence snapped at him to get on with it before he died from blueballs.

“You’ve got such a pretty cock,” Axton told him, giving it a few good pumps as he prepared to stick it in his mouth. “I’m glad I can finally get a good look at it.”

“Oh my god,” Lawrence muttered, covering his reddening face with both hands. “You would be one to like talking dirty in bed.”

Axton hummed in affirmation as he slid it into his mouth, sending delicious vibrations up and down Lawrence’s cock. As he began to enthusiastically work it, his hands snaked under Lawrence’s thighs to cup his asscheeks, spreading and kneading them in time with his bobbing. One of his fingers eventually skated close to Lawrence’s entrance, offering it a little rub.

Lawrence sucked in a semi-frantic breath and tensed up a little, only to immediately hate himself. This wasn’t his first rodeo - why the hell was he freaking out now? Maybe he wasn’t quite over his body issues. He’d come pretty far in the past ten hours, but he was bound to still be hung up on a few things, he reasoned. Nothing wrong with that.

Suddenly Axton was pulling away from his cock with a lewd pop. "How 'bout you top this time?" he blurted, rearing back on his haunches.

Lawrence grabbed for him, half delirious with want, and only heard what the commando suggested nearly a full three seconds after he said it. "You - want to bottom?" he asked stupidly, arching a brow up at the man currently straddling him.

"Hell yeah," Axton said almost eagerly. "Unless you wanna. Just thought it might be easier since it's been a while for you."

Lawrence struggled to make his mouth move. "No, that's...that's fine," he said hesitantly. "I'm just surprised that you'd want to take it."

"Why?" Axton's grin only grew wider as he canted his hips slightly, just barely giving Lawrence a taste of what was to come. "This kinda thing's a two-way street, bro. I'm down if you are. And then next time, you can spread those pretty legs for me, yeah?"

A giddy, stupid smile snaked its way across Lawrence's face. "Yeah," he breathed, gripping Axton's thighs in a silent urge for him to get closer.

They exchanged a few more kisses, but that was all they could manage before primal desire kicked in again, prompting them to separate long enough for Axton to reach over to the bedside table and snag the now almost empty bottle of lube.

“Gonna need to pick up more,” he mused out loud as he popped the top off. He dumped a substantial amount between his pointer and middle fingers and rubbed them together, warming the lubricant as much as possible.

Then he froze. “Uh.” He swallowed a moment, thinking, before he shrugged off whatever had made him hesitate. He slipped one arm behind himself and began to prepare himself for Lawrence’s cock.

As much as Lawrence found himself eager to watch him do that, he realized that this was clearly something Axton usually didn’t like doing in the company of others. Yet he had made an exception for him, because he knew Lawrence was in the process of getting over his body issues as well. Axton was showing him that he trusted him, too.

“Maybe we should set up a safeword?” Lawrence blurted, forcing himself to meet Axton’s gaze. “You know, since there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other. Boundaries and all.”

Though clearly distracted by his own fingers, Axton still managed to flash Lawrence an appreciative look. “Got any ideas?”

Lawrence hummed. “Pumpernickel bread,” he offered, earning a snort out of the other man. “Can’t imagine we’d be saying that a lot in the bedroom, right?”

“I hope not. I was never fond of food play, to be honest.”

Lawrence grinned. “Good to know.”

A long minute or so later, Axton deemed himself ready and positioned himself over Lawrence’s aching cock. Lawrence lubed it up as quickly as possible and held the base of it for him while his fingers held the tip in place. Lawrence felt a bit of pressure, and then he was sliding carefully into a tight heat that was both familiar and foreign.

"Fuckin' fuck," Axton nearly whimpered. His face was screwed up in a grimace that alarmed Lawrence, snapping him out of his lust-fueled stupor.

"Are you okay? We can stop," he babbled, moving to sit up and somehow dislodge himself from the commando without hurting him more.

"Nah," Axton said sharply. "Just gimme a minute to adjust."

Lawrence fell still and bit his lip as he watched the other man's face begin to relax a little more with each passing minute. The more comfortable he got, the more he sank down, taking Lawrence in bit by bit. Lawrence did his best not to thrust up like his body was begging him to do.

"Oh my god," Axton said quietly, almost to himself. He was about halfway seated now and his arms and thighs were quaking with the effort of holding himself up. "Fuck, you're so big."

"Bigger than Handsome Jack was," Lawrence blurted for no good goddamn reason other than the fact he was an idiot about ten seconds away from coming.

Axton sputtered and laughed so hard Lawrence could feel it vibrating in his dick. "Way to kill the mood, bro!" he teased, flashing a dazzling grin at him. With his skin glistening with sweat and his hair hanging limply on his brow, he looked goddamned gorgeous. "You - are you serious? I bet that pissed him off!"

Lawrence was almost too embarrassed to reply. "Yeah. I thought he would try to, uh, fix it."

"Well, I'm glad he didn't." Axton shifted, driving himself half an inch further down onto Lawrence's cock. "This is - fuck, this is good."

Axton sank down another inch before he had to reach for the lube again. Lawrence bit his lip and had to look away as the other man gripped the portion of his cock not currently buried in his ass with a slick hand.

“Here we go,” the commando muttered, and then he was moving, gently gyrating his hips to get an even better feel of the cock inside him. It slid in another inch, wrenching the first breathy moan of the day out of him.

Lawrence let out his own little wheeze and let his head fall back against the pillow, his wide-eyes staring blankly through the wall, through the goddamned universe, as Axton continued to carefully move. He was nearly completely sheathed inside him and it felt too amazing for words.

Well, almost too amazing. "Ax," Lawrence gasped, "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm gonna be able to last..."

"Yeah?" Axton asked, sounding excited rather than disappointed. He slowed his pace, however, allowing Lawrence to suck in some much-needed air. "Don't worry, it's cool. I shot off like a rocket the first time I got fucked."

Lawrence blinked away the haze that had been clogging his mind since Axton had begun to move. "Shut up," he groaned, biting his lip hard enough to nearly break the skin. "You're not helping."

Axton grinned like a wolf. "You're imagining what I looked like gettin' railed by some dude and blowin' my load, aren't you?"

"I do have a vivid imagination," Lawrence gritted out, thrusting his hips up in a small yet vicious stab that left Axton hissing through his teeth. "Comes with the job description of being a writer."

"You write a lot about dudes getting fucked?"

"No," Lawrence admitted, "but I tend to think about it. A lot. Especially as of recent."

Axton's grin sharpened. "Tell me about it."

Lawrence groaned. "You're not helping!" he repeated, gripping Axton's thighs so tightly he was sure he was going to leave bruises behind come morning. He hoped so.

The commando laughed and ground down into Lawrence's lap, wrenching another gasp from the taller man. "It's fine if you do," Axton said, licking his lips. "You'll just have to put your mouth to good use afterward for me."

It took every last inch of self-control not to come right then and there. He threw his arm across his mouth and bit into it, groaning in aggravation. This man was going to be the death of him!

"Wow, you really _are_ ready to explode, huh?" Axton asked as he finally came to fully rest in Lawrence's lap. He released a relieved sigh.

"I've been hard since this morning," Lawrence reminded him harshly. He was out of patience. "I want to fuck you now."

Axton gave a low chuckle that resembled more of a growl. "What's stopping you?" he teased, leaning back slightly to brace himself with one arm while the other snaked down to loosely grip his cock, which stood proudly at attention against his belly. "Fuck me, Law."

That was the final straw. With a savage noise of his own, Lawrence gripped the man by his thighs and thrust up into him with a quick snap of his hips, driven purely by all the primal lust he'd had caged up over the past half-decade. Axton jolted and let out a wheeze, but a few more hard thrusts had his head tilting backwards and his mouth falling open with pleasure.

One thing was for sure - this kind of thing definitely looked easier in porn. Even with the animalistic side of him in control, all too soon Lawrence's hips began to ache with the constant movement and Axton's unfamiliar weight. Thankfully the commando seemed to sense this and quickly took matters into his own hands. He released his hold on his cock and leaned forward, bracing himself on the headboard. His hips snapped down on their own accord, swallowing Lawrence whole.

Lawrence gladly let the commando take the reins for the moment. He fell limp against the pillows and gazed dreamily up at the man riding him with reckless abandon. With his eyes screwed shut in a pleased grimace and sweat glistening on his tanned skin, Axton was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Lawrence wanted to see him look like that forever.

"Touch me," Axton ordered breathlessly. Lawrence was loathe to disobey and seized the man's cock with a shaking hand, stroking him messily in time with his thrusts. The combination was enough to turn Axton's deep grunts into full-fledged shouts and heavy sighs that the neighbors would surely complain about in the morning, but Lawrence didn't care.

Suddenly Lawrence became aware of two things. One: he was about ten seconds away from coming, and two: it had only been like, five minutes since they'd really started to tango and that was just _unacceptable_.

No, no, no, he thought frantically, increasing his grip on Axton's cock. He sped up his pace and began to thrust his hips again, trying to meet Axton's thrusts with his own. In a last-ditch effort not to come before Axton, Lawrence filled his thoughts with Handsome Jack, but even that wasn't enough to convince his body to chill out, not with Axton behaving so obscenely above him.

"Aw, fuck," Axton groaned thickly. He angled his hips slightly, and suddenly his cock was jumping in Lawrence's grip. "Aw, fuck! Fuck, right there, yes, darlin’, yes..."

It was too much.

With a noise that could only be classified as a roar, Lawrence surged up and flipped Axton onto his back. Axton’s legs instinctively came up and around Lawrence’s hips as he began to pound into him with reckless abandon. Axton gripped the sheets above his head, cursing and uttering those little compliments that Lawrence seemed to crave so much. Though truth be told, Lawrence barely heard him, barely heard the obscene wet slaps their bodies made as they came together in a frantic rutting, barely heard the rapid staccato the headboard was beating out on the wall behind them. All he knew was Axton, and then all he knew was the surging sensation of bliss snapping through his body like a rubber band pulled too tight.

His mouth dropped open as his entire body seized up with what was quite possibly the best orgasm of his life. It wasn’t just the kind that made his toes curl - he lost all feeling in his limbs, and he was pretty sure he actually left his body for a minute or maybe an hour. He floated somewhere up in the atmosphere, weightless and utterly content.

When he finally came back into awareness, he was just in time to see Axton’s own spunk flying up his chest as he rapidly pumped his cock. The commando was clenching around him as he rode out his orgasm; it was almost too much for Lawrence’s sensitive cock to handle, but he forced himself to hang in there for Axton’s sake, wanting the man to be completely satisfied before he pulled out.

Finally Axton fell limp, his chest heaving and eyelids fluttering. Lawrence eyed the come on his pecs and couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward to lick the man clean. Axton huffed in appreciation and stroked his fingers through the hair on the back of Lawrence’s head, unhurried.

“I would’ve used my mouth on you,” Lawrence told him once he'd finished up.

“I know,” Axton said through a pleased sigh. He grinned tiredly up at him. “But the sight of you comin’ undone above me - I couldn’t wait.”

Lawrence ducked his head, pleased, and carefully draped himself over the commando to draw him into a deep, sensual kiss. Axton rumbled and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, drawing him even closer. They lay like that a while, absorbing each other's presence, until finally Lawrence sat back, carefully pulling himself out of Axton as he went. Axton let out a small hiss of discomfort, but that was probably because Lawrence’s spunk was currently dripping out of his ass. Lawrence turned red and fumbled for something to wipe him off, eventually settling for his t-shirt.

“Thanks, darlin’,” Axton said after he finished up.

“Darlin’?” Lawrence echoed quietly, slurring it the way Axton did. It sounded better that way.

“I - yeah. Bad? I could call you ‘baby’ or ‘sweetcakes’ or ‘sugar pie honey buns’ if those do it for you better - ”

“No!” Lawrence laughed and gave him a small shove as they both moved to lie down properly on the bed. They automatically gravitated towards each other as their highs began to wane, turning to lie on their sides to face each other. “I like darlin’,” Lawrence admitted, bringing his forehead to rest against Axton's.

Axton sniffed. His eyes were shut now, his breath evening out as he began to slip off. “I like you,” he countered.

Lawrence felt his ears burn with pleasure. “Good, ‘cos I like you, too.” Lawrence felt himself grin, even as his eyes were slipping shut. He always seemed to be able to fall asleep quickly whenever Axton was next to him. "Hold this for me?" he asked, holding out his closed hand.

Axton grunted, but woke long enough to open his hand. When Lawrence laced his fingers through his, he let out a groan into his pillow. "You - god, you're gonna get me with that every time, aren't you?" he groused, trying and failing to be mad about it.

"Every chance I get," Lawrence confirmed, giving his hand a squeeze. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being patient with me. For telling me what I needed to hear, even if I didn't want to hear it." Lawrence shrugged, meeting Axton's gaze. "For a lot of things, really." He couldn't even begin to list it all.

Axton scooted over and kissed him. "You don't have to thank me for anythin'," he said quietly, slipping into full-on sleepy cuddle mode as he flung his arm across Lawrence's hip. "Except maybe bein' nice enough to put up with that dumb hand holdin' trick of yours."

Lawrence chuckled into Axton's mussed up hair. "You love it."

"Yeah." Axton brought their joined hands up to kiss Lawrence's knuckles. "I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	31. Chapter 31

"Good morning," Lawrence attempted to say, but all that burbled out from between his lips was a garbled mess of words and saliva.

Axton outright giggled and stretched his legs out on either side of Lawrence. "Good mornin' to you too, I think," he slurred through a pleased, heavy sigh. "If I could wake up every day to this, it would be a good mornin' from now ‘til I ate shit."

Lawrence smirked as he popped the commando's cock out of his mouth with a quiet, lewd slurp. "You wanna return the favor?" he asked, making his way up to the commando's form until he was straddling the man's upper chest. His own excitement bobbed in front of the man's face, an open invitation to dig in.

Axton was five seconds away from swallowing everything whole when the front door was kicked open - literally - to reveal one very, very irritated mechromancer. She opened her mouth to yell at them, but the sight of Axton squeezing Lawrence's bare ass and his mouth hanging open to accept his cock rendered her speechless for one second. Then all hell broke loose; she screamed and covered her eyes while the boys shrieked and made a mad dash for the bed sheets, which had been kicked off the bed at some point during one of their many romps.

"Try knocking next time, asshole!" Axton exclaimed, trying to snag a chunk of the sheets Lawrence had cocooned himself in. "Law, gimme some of that...!"

Lawrence, who was pretty sure he was going to die from embarrassment, ignored him and proceeded to roll off the mattress, wedging himself between the far wall and the bed. Axton let out another outraged squeal before he grabbed one of the pillows and squashed it to his crotch as a last-ditch effort to retain any sort of dignity in front of the raging eighteen-year-old.

"You owe me eye bleach!" said eighteen-year-old was in the middle of babbling at the top of her lungs. "It was quiet so I thought you two were finally fuckin' done...!"

"Language!" Axton snapped. "How did you - why are you even - were you camping outside our room or what?"

"I put two and two together when Maya shoved a twenty into my face," Gaige explained, sounding as if she was rolling her eyes, "and I, being the good friend that I am, gave you nobs your space. But it's been days, guys! Have you even taken a break to eat?"

"Sure we have - "

"And you couldn't bother to spare ten seconds to pop your head in the workshop to say 'hi, Gaige, we know we've been busy screwing each other's brains out, but we're aware that you still exist and are probably still super pissed about being left behind on that convoy-raiding mission!'? Seriously, guys? I mean that little to you?"

As peeved as they were about being interrupted, both boys knew that they had screwed up big time. Lawrence poked his head up from behind the bed and sent the girl a sad, remorseful look.

"Sorry," he said, eyes low. Axton quietly echoed the apology via a grunt. "If it makes you feel better, it wasn't all sunshine and happiness for us at first. I had, um. Body issues to get over before we could really get going."

Gaige's frown became less severe. "Uh, _no_ , that doesn't make me feel better," she said flatly. "But I'm glad you got over it. Even if it does mean I get tossed to the curb again, because I'm a _good friend_ \- "

Axton groaned. "All right, all right! Let us get dressed first, for fuck's sake."

"Yay!" Gaige squealed in victory as her whole attitude did a one-eighty. She spun on her heel and left, slamming the door as she went.

The boys were just about to let out a collective sigh when she abruptly slammed the door back open, knocking the mirror off the windowsill and Axton's rifle off the desk.

"Oh, and take a shower before you drag your asses out here," she ordered. "You guys reek."

"Thank you," Axton groused.

She slammed the door again.

As soon as she was gone, Axton turned to his partner and waggled his eyebrows. "Wanna pick up where we left off in the shower?" he asked.

"It would save water and time," Lawrence agreed, returning the man's lecherous smirk with a saucy one of his own as he wiggled his way back onto the bed.

"Well, I dunno about time. We were only just gettin' started, after all." Axton closed the gap between them, and for a few seconds Lawrence was content to suck face with the guy. But Gaige's heavy words hung over him like a neon-red warning sign, keeping him level-headed for the most part.

"Gaige is right," Lawrence managed to choke out. He put a finger on Axton's lips to gently push him back, though that lasted for maybe half a second before Axton was sucking the digit into his hot mouth. "S-stop it. We've been ignoring our friends and - damn it, Ax..."

Axton pushed him back onto the mattress. Lawrence went willingly and allowed his eyes to flutter shut as Axton continued to lavish his hand with attention, only to squeal and wrap his arms and legs around him like a damn thresher when Gaige hammered on the door hard enough to probably dent the damn thing.

"Let's hear some water running!" the girl snarled cheerfully.

Axton groaned and let his head fall against Lawrence's chest. "We should take a vacation," he grumbled as he reluctantly got to his feet.

"We should spend time with her," Lawrence countered, trying to untangle himself from the sheet before he tripped and killed himself.

"I know," Axton whined, "but I wanna have sex."

Lawrence laughed and pushed past him into the bathroom. "We've been doing that for days! She's right, we need to take a break. Have lunch with her or something. It won't kill us to go without sex for a few hours."

"Yeah, I know. I just really, really wanna suck your cock."

"You're trying to seduce me. It's not going to work."

Axton, of course, took that as a challenge and managed to win him over quite quickly in the shower, starting with probably the best blowjob of his life and ending with being fucked over the edge of the tub. The floor got soaked, but Lawrence would be lying if he said he cared.

Squeaky clean and satisfied for the time being, they met up with Gaige in the workshop beneath the Crimson Raiders headquarters. Deathtrap was there and cooed and beeped excitedly upon seeing the two men, reminding them yet again just how long they'd been preoccupied with each other. The guilt only further helped them forget their raging teenage-boy-lust for the time being and just focus on their friends.

"Just hang out for like, an hour or two," Gaige told them as they pulled up some chairs to one of the old, semi-clean workbenches. "That's all I ask."

She still sounded pretty down, Lawrence noted. “We really are sorry, Gaige,” he told her quietly. “We were just so excited to get back here - ”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, snapping her hand at him dismissively. “Look, I’m twenty dollars richer and now have a reputation as the best wingman on Pandora. It’s fine that you completely forgot I existed for three days. It’s _fine_.”

Axton waved her favorite sandwich under her nose. “It’s skag tongue and cabbage,” he cooed. “Cooked just the way you like it.”

“Ass,” she snapped, but snatched it out of his hand and perked up upon taking the first bite.

Per her command, Axton spent their lunch break retelling their convoy-raiding adventure, but foolishly forgot to leave out the part where Lawrence had his noggin' poked and prodded, which, understandably sent the girl into a frenzy.

"I _knew_ I should have come with you!" she shrieked, yanking on her pigtails. "Stupid Lilith and her stupid orders...!"

Lawrence held his hands up. "It's fine," he tried to assure her. "I’m fine. There was no permanent damage and we nabbed the loot - "

"But you could have died, Law!" she snapped, turning to fix her icy green stare on him. He had to break her gaze as a mixture of fear and shame churned in his stomach.

"Hey, he's a hardy dude," Axton piped up, tossing both of them a small, crooked smile. "He handled it fine. I was the one who froze up." He demeanor changed slightly as the smile slipped off his face. Lawrence knew he was thinking of how he had to have Maya yank the needle remnants out of his port because he didn't trust his hands to do the delicate deed.

"We all made it out," he said quietly, reaching under the table to give Axton's knee a squeeze. "And you got the super cool Conference Call out of it."

That snapped the commando out of his morbid thoughts. "Hell yeah we did! Have you seen it yet?" he asked Gaige, all but vibrating with excitement at the mere thought of the legendary shotgun.

Gaige looked distant, clearly still hung up on the whole 'Lawrence almost died' part of the adventure. "Yeah, Maya was showing it off the day you guys came back. She gave it to Sal," she said, half-distracted as she rose to her feet. "Speaking of cool tech..."

She rummaged around on one of the cluttered workbenches, muttering and cursing under her breath, before she found whatever she was looking for and proceeded to slam it down on the table in front of Lawrence.

"Here's your stupid watch," she groused. "You're lucky you're cute, otherwise I'd be charging you a butt-ton for giving your stupid digital-douchebags an AI."

Lawrence swallowed hard as he timidly picked up the device. "Did they try to hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

"No, but the orange one's got an attitude problem and I can't understand a goddamned thing the blue one is saying."

"Language," Axton snapped at her, spewing the word through a mouthful of skag meat. Gaige flipped him the bird from over her shoulder.

Lawrence frowned up at her. "No offense, but aren't _you_ programming their attitudes? I know I told you to leave Blue as is, but if he's being that much of a pain - "

"The blue dude's not the problem. Here, I'll show you."

She snatched the watch out of his hands and typed in the summoning code, allowing both doubles to materialize on either side of the table. Blue grinned at them and gave his typical, stilted "Hello friendlies" greeting, whereas the badass one took one look at Gaige and completely turned away from her.

"See?" Gaige snarled, shaking her metal fist at the badass's flickering form. "I need to make sure the protocols I installed are working and the prick won't even look at me, never mind actually answer my questions!"

Lawrence looked up at his badass double and was surprised to find him staring down at him, as if waiting for orders. His expression remained impassive, but the eye-contact alone was a huge improvement.

"Uh," Lawrence began smartly, "hey there. How you feelin', buddy?"

"Decidedly cognizant," the badass answered in his usual, demonic-Jack voice. It didn't really bother Lawrence, though, just like he didn’t mind that both doubles still resembled Jack before he completely lost his damn mind. "Particularly irritated by the shrieking child behind me."

"I'm gonna delete you," Gaige yelled, practically jumping up and down. Blue grinned and mimicked her, which only seemed to make the teenager angrier. "Stop mocking me, dickweed!"

Blue looked aghast and turned to Axton. "Weeds of dicks?" he whimpered, pointing at himself.

Axton grinned around his sandwich. “Gaige, you hurt his feelings,” he taunted. “You should apologize.”

“I’m not sorry for shit!”

“Language.”

Lawrence bit his lip in a desperate attempt to keep from smiling. "Why aren't you listening to Gaige?" he asked, turning back to the badass. "She's doing us all a favor here and you're being really rude, man."

"I find the sound of her voice grating."

Not expecting such a brutally honest response, Lawrence choked on a guffaw that he couldn't muffle in time while Axton burst out laughing and nearly choked on his food. He didn't bother to tone it down like Lawrence, which only enraged Gaige further.

"I'll find a way to delete you next, buster!" she snarked at the commando. "But for now, you'll have to cough up another hundred Eridium if you want me to finish that AI for your turret!"

The commando's laughter abruptly stopped. "Aw, what?"

"You heard me. Tax inflation and whatnot. It's a real pain."

"Tax infl - there're no taxes on Pandora, you brat!"

"There are now!"

Lawrence swallowed the rest of his giggles and looked back at his double. "Regardless," he began, "you should listen to her."

Orange - no, scratch that, Red was easier - tilted his head slightly, his confusion evident despite not wearing it on his face. "But I am programmed to obey you," he said quietly. "You and only you, sir."

Lawrence felt his face light up with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, which, of course, the other humans in the room noticed immediately.

"Aww," Axton cooed, leaning his chin on his hand as he grinned. "Lawrence made a new friend."

"Yeah, you want me to describe what that's like for you?" Lawrence snarked back.

Axton choked on another mouthful of skag while Gaige let out a wild cackle. "Whoa-ah! Sick burn, bro!" she exclaimed, grinning. "I guess getting laid turned you into a sassy ass."

"He's always been a sassy ass," Axton said, sending Lawrence a fake dirty look that broke into a smirk halfway through. "You're lucky I ain't got a problem with sass."

"I figured as much since you hang out with Gaige all the time."

Now it was Gaige's turn to feign anger while Axton guffawed into his hands. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed, rearing back so hard she almost flipped her chair over. "Just for that, you're gonna owe me some Eridium for workin' on these asshole doubles of yours!"

Blue frowned sadly at her. "The posterior is an indication of myself?"

" _We_ can be friends, Blue-guy," she told him, reaching out to pat at his transparent arm. "Even if I can't understand a word you're saying. Your other half needs some serious work, though. Maybe you can convince him to stop being such a shitlord."

"Language," Axton said through a sigh.

"Mouth-noise," Blue agreed.

Lawrence barely heard their conversation, too hung up on the word Eridium. For the first time in a while, the thought of the purple mineral was making him salivate and his body sing. Maybe he was just hungry, he thought desperately. Or tired. Or horny. Or all three. Surely that was why he felt so strange this time.

"And how does one go about acquiring Eridium?" he heard his mouth ask.

Gaige shrugged. "I dunno, turn over a rock? Check a trash can? The crap's everywhere on Pandora. You can probably find a chunk or two in the dumpsters out back." She waved him off, but he was too distracted by the thought of that purple mineral to hear her tack on a quick, "I was kidding, don't worry about it."

"Subject's heartbeat is increasing at an alarming rate," Red said suddenly, eyes locked onto Lawrence. "Perspiration and salivary glands have increased production of fluids as well. Are these people bothering you, sir?" Red finally turned to face the others. His hands tightened into transparent fists at his sides. "Shall I take care of them?"

Lawrence snapped out of his stupor and sent his double a confused, horrified look. "What? No!" he exclaimed. "No, no! Everyone in Sanctuary is a friend, got it? No hurling fireballs at anyone."

Red frowned slightly, but relaxed his stance as much as a hologram could. "As you wish, sir."

Axton was grinning like a wolf now. "Elevated heart rate, huh? Methinks the sexual tension in the room is too much for you to handle," he cooed, winking. Beneath the table, he began to rub his foot up and down Lawrence's calf. "We should remedy that immediately."

"Gross!" Gaige gagged, making a nasty face. "Go do that somewhere else, please! I swear to god, if you guys try to have sex in the workshop - _my workshop_ \- I will have DT shred your stupid horny butts!"

"That was a threat," Red barked, immediately falling back into a tense stance. Fire began to froth from his hands. "Requesting permission to open fire, sir."

Lawrence huffed out a nervous laugh. "It was a joke, Red."

The hologram looked at him over his shoulder. "Why would someone joke about death?" he asked, sounding truly perplexed.

"Friends do that kinda stuff."

"Oh."

While his digital double tried to comprehend the complexities of friendship, Lawrence turned to Gaige and asked, "How was he able to detect all...that?"

"I installed extra sensors in his mainframe to scan people's vitals and whatnot. They're supposed to help him kill people better," Gaige said, then glared at double. "That's about all I got to do since Mr. Badass over here doesn't appreciate my hard work."

"I'd appreciate it more if you actually did a good job," Red said without missing a beat.

Gaige's jaw dropped. "That's it! I'm gonna find a way to delete your mouth!"

"You are welcome to try."

Lawrence buried his face in his hands and laughed - honestly laughed - for what felt like the first time in ages.

Eridium forgotten, Lawrence was content to hang out with his friends in the workshop until they were finally interrupted by the sound of someone heavy descending the staircase on the other side of the room. They turned to look in unison, half expecting Lilith to be thundering down to stairs to tell them to stop being so loud and happy, but it was Salvador who greeted them with a wide grin and a wave of a large hand.

"Hey, amigos!" he exclaimed in his typical jolly tone. The Conference Call was strapped to his back. "The doc has a job for us. Who wants in?"

Gaige slammed her fists down on the table and proclaimed viciously, "I am coming on this one!"

Axton let out his own "hell yeah" in agreement as he rose to his feet to join his friends. "Is there a briefing?"

Salvador nodded and gestured to follow him upstairs. Gaige bolted for the door, and Axton moved to follow before he remembered something that brought him back to Lawrence.

"Be right back," he said, then leaned over to kiss him.

Lawrence half-turned his head, attempting to meet him head on, but the commando wasn't after his mouth this time. The kiss he left on Lawrence's cheek was chaste, quick, and yet it left Lawrence sitting in the middle of the workshop with one hand over the afflicted area and a smile slowly uncurling on his lips. They had exchanged many kisses over the past couple of days, obviously, yet the simple peck had left him feeling bloated with an obscene amount of happiness.

Gaige and Axton disappeared up the steps along with Salvador, all three of them chattering excitedly about whatever mission might be in store for them.

Lawrence stared at where Axton had been for a long while, no doubt sporting a rather stupid, goofy expression on his face, until he realized he wasn't quite alone in his gushing. He turned to see Deathtrap hovering innocently off to his right.

"Angry," came Lawrence's own voice from the robot. Though the word didn't sound like a question, Deathtrap tilted his eyeball-head and trilled curiously.

"No," Lawrence told him, grinning so hard his mouth was beginning to hurt. "Not anymore. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Deathtrap purred, pleased, and Lawrence couldn't help but echo that notion. He was happy, his friends were happy - things were, for once, okay.

So, of course, it was only natural that a few seconds later everything went sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	32. Chapter 32

The hair on the back of Lawrence's neck prickled, then began to stand on end. The same sensation he had felt before getting nabbed by those bandits - the paranoia that he was being watched - filled him to the brim in less than a second, leaving him frozen in place in his seat at the table.

His eyes darted down to his bare wrist. Of course Gaige had taken his watch back earlier to put some final tweaks into it. He didn't even have a gun.

But he did have Deathtrap. His eyes snapped to the robot, who was in the process of turning around, no doubt sensing whatever it was that had intruded on them in the workshop. He let out a startled noise at the sight of whatever was behind Lawrence, but otherwise didn't move. If anything, he recoiled slightly, burbling quietly and sending Lawrence uneasy looks.

Shit.

Swallowing his fear, Lawrence slowly rose to his feet and turned around to face the familiar creature looming mere feet from him. Its body brushed the ceiling, but it didn't seem impeded by the cramped space. It was Lawrence who felt too small in his skin, too out of breath and cold at the sight of the Watcher standing closer to him than it had ever been before.

"You," Lawrence practically whimpered. Behind him, Deathtrap let out a worried warble. "What do you want?"

His eyes kept flicking to the door on the other side of the room as he attempted to mentally plot an escape, but the Watcher made a little "tsk" noise and wagged a strange, skinny finger at him like a parent would a naughty child.

"It's just you and I," it said. "Said" might have been the wrong word; Lawrence heard the creature's voice in his head, but as soothing and smooth as it sounded, it still frightened him. "We have much to discuss, Timothy Lawrence."

He jerked at the sound of his own name coming from the creature. He backpedaled further, knocking over a chair and almost twisting his ankle as he stumbled over it, but he had nowhere to go as the Watcher took a few more steps towards him. Its face - was it even its face? - remained blank, but he could feel it staring at him, staring through him, piercing his very core.

As it so often did, anger bubbled in his chest, fueled by his fear. "I don't have anything to say to you," he ground out, trying to sound fierce. His voice still shook, but he ignored it, focusing all of his energy into glowering up at the creature. "You helped Colonel Zarpedon try to kill me on Elpis."

"Yes. And you succeeded in killing many of my kind, as well as the creatures your employer tried so hard to replicate in you."

All of the anger in Lawrence fell straight through him, disappearing as quickly as it had formed. "H-how did you - "

"You were never lost from us. We have been observing you for a long time and know what Jack did to change you. But you are flawed, as man-made things often are."

It spoke of him as if he was an object, some poorly-constructed material thing, and holy shit was Lawrence tired of that. Did no one see him as a human being anymore?

Maybe he wasn't. There was definitely something not-human about him thanks to Jack's experiments.

"The others have told you of the impending war," the Watcher continued. It was only three feet from him now, and Lawrence had to strain his neck to see the damn thing's face. "There is one coming, and it will ultimately destroy much of this planet. The other vault hunters are doing what they can to prepare - "

Oh _hell_ no. "If you're asking me to help them fight, you can forget it," he snapped. "I'm done with that shit. I told them that, and now I’m telling you."

The Watcher tilted its armored head. Something told Lawrence that it was more amused than surprised by his lashing out. "You have the potential to change the tide of the war," it told him. "There is great strength within you now. But as I said, it is flawed in its current state. Weak. I can help."

That took Lawrence aback. " _Help_?" he echoed, incredulous. "You mean 'help' as in purge this shit from my system, get rid of these hideous scars and this face, and then send me back home to my mom and sisters so that I can introduce them to my boyfriend, right? 'Cos otherwise, I'm not interested. Sorry." He paused. "No, actually, I'm _not_ sorry. Do me a favor and never show your mug to me again, and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, yeah?"

The years of having Jack's level of sass forged into him was showing, but for once, Lawrence didn't mind sounding like an asshole. Pre-surgery, he might have let this douchebag tread all over him, but not today. Today, he would look this ugly bastard in the face, and -

Lawrence screamed as the Watcher snagged him by the neck and slammed him onto the table hard enough to make the whole structure rattle in protest. The creature's touch was freezing against the bare flesh of his throat, but Lawrence barely noticed, too distracted by the fact that said creature was now looming over him, preventing him from rolling away like every last nerve in his body was begging him to do. His hands snapped around the Watcher's thin wrist, tugging and jerking it with mounting desperation, but its grip remained firm on his neck, tight but not crushingly so.

"Deathtrap - " Lawrence began to yell, but the robot was way ahead of him and attempted to blast the Watcher with his eye-laser. It all but bounced off the creature, leaving it more irritated than hurt.

With a wave of its arm, it sent Deathtrap flying backwards into the wall, making the robot squeal in pain and collapse into the floor. Sparks flew off of his back as he tried to right himself unsuccessfully.

Lawrence thrashed, horrified at the state of his friend. "You piece of shit," he snarled, turning back to glower at the Watcher. "If you think I'm going to - "

"Unfortunately, the time for negotiation has long passed," it hissed quietly, its voice now low and threatening in Lawrence's head. The graceful air that had permeated from the creature not a moment before was gone, replaced by something sharp and all-too-dangerous. "There is a legion on Elpis that needs a leader, someone willing to take command when the time comes. You are the perfect candidate now that Colonel Zarpedon is gone."

He gaped up at it, almost horrified to the point of not being able to speak. "You can't," he eventually gasped. He was so _sick_ of having things done to him without his permission! "You can't do this…!"

"I can. I will finish and perfect what Jack started."

"No!" Lawrence screeched, kicking wildly at the creature's body. It barely budged, much to his terror. Tears began to fall freely down his cheeks as he wailed, "I'm not a leader! I don't want to do this!"

"You will," the Watcher assured him, bringing its other hand up towards his body. The tips of its fingers were glowing a dim purple. "I apologize in advance for the pain. But your blood must be purified. This is the only way."

The creature's hand spread flat on Lawrence's chest right above his heart, but just as he was beginning to feel the burning sensation of his blood beginning to literally boil, the door on the other side of the room slammed open, revealing Gaige, Axton, and Mordecai, who was sporting Talon on his shoulder. Their conversation died almost instantly when they caught sight of what was unfolding before them.

"The _fuck_?" Axton bellowed, slipping into attack mode as he snagged his tomahawk off his belt.

Talon beat him to it; she screeched in outrage and launched herself at the Watcher, who backed away from Lawrence and took on a placating stance by the far wall. As soon as the damn thing was out of the way, Gaige bolted for Deathtrap, who warbled sadly up at her as she knelt by his side.

Lawrence rolled off the table, heaving with pain and groaning through clenched teeth as he hit the floor and curled in on himself. His whole body was on fire, but the pain was slowly ebbing away, the process - or whatever the hell that goddamn Watcher was doing to him - incomplete. He didn't know if he should be grateful or disappointed.

"You blather on about how we need all the vault hunters we can get for some stupid future war, yet here you are trying to kill one!" Mordecai was in the middle of yelling, gesturing towards Lawrence with a sweep of his arm. "What gives, asshole?"

"Not kill," the Watcher said. "Merely enhance."

"Really? 'Cos it looks like you did more harm than good."

Lawrence flinched as someone knelt next to him. A quick glance up revealed it to be Axton, who was peering down at him with wild concern. After giving him a quick once-over, the commando urged him to sit up, which he managed to do with great difficulty. His whole body was tingling unpleasantly, and it felt like someone had placed a boulder on his chest.

"I did not finish the process," the creature said. It turned to look at Lawrence, who immediately recoiled. "If I could just be allowed to purify the Eridium in his blood - "

"No!" Lawrence snarled. Axton's arm around his shoulder was a comfort and gave him the courage to continue. "I don't want whatever you're selling, pal! If you come near me again, I'll...I'll...!"

Mordecai cut him off before he could further flounder over empty threats. "We just had him detoxed," he told the Watcher. "The last thing he needs is to have that shit back in his system."

"He will always have remnants in his blood," the Watcher said. "No amount of detoxing will rid him of that now. And until I cleanse him, he will continue to yearn for the mineral until it drives him mad."

Lawrence gaped up at the creature, frozen with terror. It was true that the sight of Eridium was enough to make him drool like a skag in the summertime, but he still felt in control of the situation when it happened. He could still tell his body no.

But how much longer would that last? he wondered. If this creature was right - and let's face it: it probably was - would he eventually snap and hurt someone over a piece of the goddamned stuff? He thought about Gaige and Axton and Athena and everyone else and grew nauseous at the very notion that he might hurt them over something so _stupid_.

"If I let you," he rasped, "let you...cleanse me or whatever...what would that mean? Would I wind up like the others on Elpis?"

"Yes."

Lawrence gave a full-body shudder and shook his head. "I don't want that. They - they didn't think or feel or care about anything - "

"They care about what's most important."

"They're _drones_!" Lawrence yelled hoarsely. "I've been a mindless, unfeeling slave, forced to be loyal to something I didn't believe in, and I can’t - I _won’t_ go back to that again! My answer is no!"

The Watcher stood there for a long moment, still and silent. Lawrence knew that if it wasn't for the additional company, the damn thing wouldn't be hesitating. "As you wish," it said eventually. It vanished a second later, but none of them were so foolish as to believe it was really gone. It was called the Watcher for a reason, after all.

The moment it was gone, Lawrence heaved in a huge breath of air, feeling as though whatever had been sitting on his chest had left with the Watcher. Axton helped him to his feet. His knees wobbled fiercely, but a few more shaking steps forward left him a bit stronger, until finally he could stand with only mild support from Axton.

"I'm gonna tell Lily about this," Mordecai said, holding his arm out so that Talon could swoop down from the bookshelf and reclaim her perch. "Until she decides what to do, I think it's best you lay low for a bit, Law."

"That's what I've been doing this whole time," he gritted out miserably. "You can't exactly run and hide from a dude called The Watcher."

The sniper gave a sheepish shrug in reply. "Yeah, all right. Well, at least get some rest. And stay away from Eridium."

Lawrence scowled at him - no fucking shit stay away from Eridium - but kept his mouth shut as Mordecai retreated. He looked over his shoulder at Gaige and Deathtrap. "Is he gonna be okay?" he rasped, frowning down at them.

The girl looked up at him through huge, watery eyes. "I can fix him," she answered steadily. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He nodded, afraid to trust his voice. His chest hurt and he felt odd, for lack of a better word, but he was still alive, so he really shouldn't complain. Gaige and Axton looked worried enough as it was.

While Gaige went to work repairing Deathtrap, Axton helped Lawrence out of HQ and out to the street where he greedily gulped down fresh air. The breeze cooled the sweat on his brow and helped his heart stop trying to beat out of his chest, but the feeling of being watched was still with him. He knew the Watcher wouldn't give up just yet. But he was probably safe for the time being. Probably.

"Is it true?" Axton asked suddenly.

"What?"

"You've been cravin' Eridium?" Axton asked. His voice was a low growl, his gaze narrowed and focused on the empty air in front of them. He was angry, Lawrence realized, feeling his blood run cold.

"I..." He sighed and lowered his head. "Yes."

Axton cussed viciously and kicked at the dirt. "Why the hell didn't you say anythin'?" he blurted angrily. "Shit, we come back from missions tossin' chunks of the damn thing around all the time! There's like, forty pieces just hangin' out in lockers around HQ, for fuck's sake!"

"I thought I would get over it," Lawrence said, squeezing his eyes shut. "I thought - I thought I would be fine after a few more weeks - "

"It's been _months_!"

"Please don't be mad at me," he whispered, sounding like a weepy little boy.

"I'm not...!" Axton let out a sigh that sounded more like a snarl and ran his free hand through his hair. "I'm not mad, I'm fuckin' _concerned_ , you shit! You've been sufferin' this whole time and I haven't..."

Lawrence's expression crumbled. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either," Axton fired back. Another heavy sigh deflated him, sucking all of his anger out and leaving him glaring halfheartedly down at the dirty ground. "Let's just go home."

"What about your mission?"

"You think I'm gonna leave after what just happened?"

Now it was Lawrence's turn to frown. "I can defend myself," he said. "It caught me off guard is all. I didn't have my doubles or a gun - "

"That thing can stop bullets with its _mind_ , dude! It beat the shit out of Deathtrap and left you almost...!" The commando shook his head, his expression borderline pained. "What you looked like when we came in - I never want to see you like that again, okay?"

Lawrence bit his lower lip. He wasn't sure what sort of state the Watcher had left him in, but if it looked as bad as it left him feeling, he didn't want to look like that again either.

"Lilith better reign that fuckin' thing in," Axton was grumbling as they hobbled up the stairs to his hostel room. "It attacked you and fucked up Deathtrap. If that ain't grounds for banishment at the very least, I swear to fuckin' fuck..."

The man continued to mumble angrily to himself as they entered the room. Lawrence let him pace around and rage and kick over the nightstand. The noise made Lawrence flinch and retreat into the bathroom, but he didn't dare shut the door, more for Axton's sake rather than his own. He could feel the commando's gaze burning into the side of his head as he looked into the mirror by the sink.

He hadn't been expecting to see anything other than his own taut expression, so the sight of his eyes glowing purple was frightening, to say the least. He all but smashed his nose into the mirror in order to get a better look at the orbs, momentarily too stunned for words. The whites of his eyes had been tinted purple since he'd been rid of the slave collar, but now his lone pupil, once a sage green, was ringed with purple streaks that were literally glowing. The swirl dancing up his brow was also brighter than usual, too. He was sure that if he flicked off the light in the bathroom, he would be able to illuminate the damn place.

"Oh my god," he whimpered, slowly stumbling away from the mirror. What else had that creature done to him? He tore off his gloves and sucked in a breath through his teeth at the sight of his hands, which were also a brighter shade of purple than they had been. The veins in his wrists were radiant.

Axton gripped his shoulder, startling him bad enough to make him jump. "Do I need to detox again?" Lawrence asked, frantic. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Ax...!"

"You won't," the commando said, sounding firm despite the trickle of fear leaking through his eyes. "You don't look anythin' like you did when you first had to detox. This is nothin'. You'll be fine, I promise - "

"You don't know that!" Lawrence was borderline hysterical now as he attempted to push himself away from the other man, but Axton refused to let him go. He yanked him to his chest and held him as he thrashed and blubbered. His shoves became weaker until finally he just collapsed against the commando, sobbing into his shirt like a newborn baby. Axton remained silent and merely tightened his grip around Lawrence's shoulders.

"I'm scared," Lawrence admitted softly in between wet noises and hiccups. The words stung his tongue as he spit them out, but a huge weight lifted off his shoulders at the same time. He was embarrassed and ashamed and relieved and wanted nothing more than to just sleep for a hundred thousand years, but he would probably never sleep well again - not while that fucking creature was watching him from afar, just waiting to strike. "I'm scared. I don't want to become a monster again."

"You won't," Axton mumbled into his hair. His grip on him tightened. "I won't let that thing near you."

A valiant gesture - one that Lawrence would treasure, he thought morbidly, even as that creature was swallowing him whole.

Axton held him until his sniffling finally ceased. Lawrence probably would have been content to fall asleep right then and there, but Axton had other ideas. He gently pried Lawrence off his chest and tilted his head up so that he could kiss his brow. Just like before when Axton had kissed his cheek, Lawrence felt himself going weak in the knees. He readily accepted the kiss Axton bestowed on his lips, which was just as gentle as the last two. What Lawrence needed right now was softness, and Axton seemed all too eager to give him just that.

Lawrence didn't want to label what happened next as he and Axton making love. As much as he wanted to stay away from that dreaded four-letter-word, it was impossible to deny that the kind of tender touching that they experienced in the next two hours went beyond their normal bumping and grinding. It was open-mouthed kisses and breathing the same air and grabbing at sweat-slicked flesh that was overheated from friction and pleasure. There was no penetration, yet they somehow got closer than they ever had before by simply entwining their legs and slowly grinding against one another. The goal wasn't the end game. It was just being together, being in the same space, feeling every inch of each other. For several long, intense minutes, they were one being.

The experience left Lawrence heavy-lidded and drowsy and tingling from head to toe as Axton drew him to his chest and buried his face in his copper hair. The commando's thick arms encircled around him and came to rest near his heart. Being surrounded by his familiar warmth did wonders in lulling Lawrence towards what was probably going to be the best sleep of his entire stupid life, the horrifying events of the day briefly forgotten.

"I liked what you did earlier," he mumbled, only half-conscious. His words were slurring as he fell deeper into sleep, but he had to let Axton know this. "The kisses on my face. S'good."

"Yeah?" came Axton's quiet rumble. Lawrence felt him take his hand in his and give it a tender squeeze. "I like doin’ this with you. Even if nine times outta ten you trick me into doin’ it."

Lawrence chuckled thickly. “Big bad vault hunting commando likes to hold hands,” he teased softly in a sing-songy tone. Axton blew a raspberry into his shoulder, making his chuckling turn into full-blown laughter. With a few more lazy kisses, Lawrence surrendered himself over to unconsciousness, and, for a while, slept dreamlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	33. Chapter 33

Something dragged Axton back into awareness. He cracked open an eye and groaned quietly, noting that it was still dark in the room. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but something kept the back of his mind from completely losing its grasp on consciousness.

Irritated, he opened his eyes again and rolled over. The spot next to him was still warm, but void of company. It shouldn't have alarmed him the way it did - Lawrence either slept for sixteen hours or not at all, so he would often wander into the bathroom to write or read so as not to disturb his partner - but for some reason Axton felt a pit of worry begin to develop in his gut, one that brought him to an alert, upright position.

He half expected to see that goddamned Watcher standing at the foot of his bed, looming over him like a visage of death. Instead, all he saw was Lawrence was standing by the front door, the pale expanse of his back facing the commando. His one arm was limp at his side, the other clawing weakly at the metal material like a lazy cat wanting to be let outside.

"Law?" Axton asked, voice rough with sleep. "Darlin’, come back to bed for a while."

The man didn't respond. His hand kept batting at the door, sometimes catching his long fingers on the handle. It made a small clattering noise - probably what woke Axton up in the first place.

The pit of nerves in Axton's gut grew worse as he slowly got out of bed and approached the other man. He peered around, trying to catch a glimpse at his face, and was startled to see that his eyes were half open, still glowing an eerie purple.

"Are you sleepwalking?" Axton asked, choking on a weak laugh. He waved a hand in front of Lawrence's face. When that didn't earn him a reaction, he took Lawrence by the shoulder and attempted to steer him back to bed before he hurt himself, but Lawrence barely budged. "Jesus, dude. C'mon, wake up."

He turned Lawrence away from the door and patted the side of his face. The guy barely even blinked let alone woke up, which really only made Axton nervous. Sarah used to sleepwalk on occasion, and he had always been able to either wake her up or at least coax her back to bed. This was some weirdly intense shit.

His mind drifted back to the events of the day previous. His soldier gut was telling him that the Watcher had something to do with this, but the sensible part of his brain - the itty bitty chunk that sounded a lot like Sarah - was ordering him not to jump to conclusions just yet. Lawrence was a finicky sleeper when he actually did sleep; he had nightmares and liked to play them off as nothing, even if he did wake up half the hostel's occupants with his screams. This could just be one hell of a dream.

"Yeah, right," he grumbled, snorting.

Lawrence went back to batting at the door. Curious, Axton opened the door for him, wondering if he really wanted out or was just smacking the door for shits and giggles. The second the damn thing swung open, Lawrence took a step forward, only to be yanked quite violently off his feet by the commando.

"Put some pants on first, dude!" he yelled angrily, trying to pin Lawrence down long enough to slide his boxers back on. Despite being asleep, the man sure put up a fight. He thrashed and kicked his long legs, though it was clear that he only wanted to leave, not attack Axton. As soon as his boxers were on, Axton released him and watched with growing concern as the guy got to his feet and left the room.

Cursing vehemently, Axton threw on his own clothes and started after him.

Lawrence descended the stairs without issue and proceeded down the street as if he were perfectly awake and aware. The farther they got from the hostel, the more anxious Axton got. Lawrence clearly had a destination in mind and was steadily making his way there, his bare feet moving swiftly yet carefully over and around the occasional pile of trash that littered the streets of Sanctuary. From the looks of things, they were headed for the Crimson Raider HQ. Axton's thoughts went to Lilith and that goddamned alien, and suddenly the whole thing seemed far more serious.

"Dude," Axton hissed, punching him in the arm. "Law, snap out of it! It's the middle of the goddamn night and you're sleepwalking and really freaking me out! Lawrence!"

Fed up, he snatched the dude by the chin and forced him to look in his direction. Lawrence stared right through him, his eyes never getting beyond half-lidded. Axton brought his other shaking hand up to slap him, but he didn’t so much as blink.

The other man kept walking, and Axton had no choice but to keep up with him.

They reached headquarters. It wasn't unusual for the door to be kept open at all times, mostly because a handful of the Raiders tended to come stumbling in at all hours of the night drunk from Moxxi's bar or wounded from a mission. Lawrence moved right over the threshold and past the few slumbering forms scattered on the bunk beds.

As luck would have it, at that moment Gaige was ascending from the workshop, visibly exhausted and covered in grease and grime from working on fixing Deathtrap. She blinked, startled at the sight of Lawrence striding towards her in nothing but his skivvies.

"Uh, did I miss a memo or something?" she asked, voice far too loud for the stealth mission Axton felt like he was on. "Lawrence?" Gaige waved a hand in front of the taller man's face, but he didn't notice and kept walking past her like she didn't exist. "Hey! What's wrong with y - "

She yelped as Axton slapped a hand over her mouth and kept her still. When she realized it was only him, she fell quiet, her expression easily conveying her fright and apprehension. Her eyebrow cocked, silently asking just what the hell was going on.

Axton shrugged helplessly and flashed her a worried look of his own before he started after Lawrence again. He was halfway up the stairs to the meeting room; Axton and Gaige hurried to catch up, trying to keep their steps light and quick on the old staircase.

Lawrence finally came to a stop in the middle of the meeting room. Axton and Gaige took position in the shadows behind the room's threshold, each taking a side to peer around. Axton frowned at the sight of Lilith and the Watcher standing inside the room, both observing Lawrence where he stood.

"This isn't creepy at all," Lilith muttered, moving to wave a hand in front of Lawrence's face. She recoiled, frowning. "Did you hypnotize him or what?"

"He's sleeping," the Watcher assured her. "Now is the time. He won't feel anything in this state."

Lilith hummed, clearly not convinced, but didn't protest as the Watcher began to move towards Lawrence. Its fingertips lit up with the same shade of purple that now plagued Lawrence's eye and hands, just like it had earlier when it had him pinned to a table. The look of anguish on Lawrence's face was an image that would be seared into Axton's mind for as long as he lived. Now it looked like he was about to witness it again.

No, Axton thought, horrified. No, no, no, he wasn't about to let this happen. His hands fumbled for a weapon, anything he could use to bash that fucker's head in. He exhaled heavily when Gaige thrust her wrench into his grasping hand.

"Stop," Lilith blurted just as Axton was rising to his feet. The commando hastily ducked back behind the threshold as Lilith continued. "I can't let you do that to him. Not without his consent."

"Time is of the essence, Lilith," the Watcher reminded her tersely. "Do I need to show you what will happen again - "

"I remember," the siren gritted out. "All too vividly, thanks. But I still can't let you turn him into...whatever it is you're aiming for. He said no once - and I can't really blame him for that, considering that stunt you tried to pull yesterday."

"I have already apologized for that. But, as I said, we are running out of time."

Axton heard Lilith scowl. "I know this whole humanity thing is baffling to you," she said almost condescendingly, "but we've got this thing called 'free will'. It's how we make decisions. Handsome Jack stole Lawrence's free will away once, and like hell I'm gonna lower myself to the same level as that douchebag. No means no, and if you come near him again with that same intent, I'm going to use my free will to kick your alien ass out the door, war be damned."

Axton had to swallow the semi-hysterical laugh that threatened to give away his position. He took back every last negative thing he ever thought about Lilith. Shit, at this point he was willing to get on his knees and kiss her boots.

"We'll find another way to stop Hyperion when they come knocking," Lilith continued.

"You are making a grave mistake."

"Yeah, well, it wouldn't be the first time. But it turned out all right in the end."

There was a brief moment of silence that eventually prompted Axton to sneak another peek into the room. He blinked, startled, when he found himself staring at an empty space.

He jerked to his feet and was ten seconds away from freaking the fuck out when Gaige grabbed his arm and hissed, "She phasewalked with him! Back to the hostel!"

He sent her a look that he only used once before, right after they killed Angel and Gaige had a minor meltdown. "Not a word of this to anyone," he said in a voice he didn't recognize. "If I don't hail you in hysterics, assume everythin' is fine."

Gaige wanted to protest - he could see it in her eyes - but she kept her mouth shut and nodded anyway.

Axton left her standing there and took off for the hostel, running faster than he had in a long, long time. He was gasping by the time he made it up to the second story, but he didn't dare stop to catch his breath, not when Lawrence could be in danger all over again beyond the door to their room.

He all but broke the door off its hinges in an effort to get inside. Lawrence was curled up in their bed, his chest gently rising and falling like he hadn't just been forced to walk half a mile to the Crimson Raiders HQ. Axton didn't stop to absorb the sight; he launched himself onto the bed and immediately shook the guy awake, barking his name the whole while. It took a moment for Lawrence to be roused; that was the longest moment of Axton's short life.

"What?" Lawrence grumbled, moving to slap Axton's hands away from his face. He cracked open his good eye and frowned up at the other man, oblivious to his panic. "Izzit time to get up? Wha's wrong?"

Words failed Axton. Lawrence's eye was still dimly glowing in the dark room, but otherwise he seemed fine. All the images and scenarios that had filled Axton's mind on the sprint back to the hostel vanished, leaving the commando trembling with relief and anxiety.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked. His voice sounded foreign to his ears; too shaky, too blatantly worried.

"Yeah." Lawrence rubbed the ball of his palm into his good eye and made a face. "Weird dreams. Why? Was I screaming again or something?"

"No, you..." Axton bit his lip. Lawrence was already so paranoid and strung out; he didn't need to know what just almost happened. "It's nothin'. I think I had a nightmare. Just...wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh." Lawrence smiled sleepily up at him and opened his arms. "I'm fine. C'mere."

Axton slowly lowered himself into his embrace, still a little stunned by everything that had just happened. Lawrence let out a content sigh and buried his face in Axton's shoulder, easily slipping back off to sleep, while Axton remained wide awake and tense for a long time, until finally Lawrence's steady breathing and gentle heartbeat began to make his eyes droop and his body shudder with exhaustion.

He wrapped his arms tighter around the man beneath him and shut his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.

~

"You're not payin' attention at all, are you?"

Lawrence wiggled his ass against Axton's groin again, making the commando grunt from where he stood behind him. "Nope," he said. He tossed aside the pistol Axton had been in the process of helping him aim and turned around in the commando's arms, peppering his stubbly jaw with kisses. "Let's take a break. We've been at this crap for hours and I'm hungry."

Axton rolled his eyes, pried Lawrence off him, and picked up the pistol. "Another hour and then you can go eat," he grunted, shoving the gun back into his grip. "You haven't hit the bullseye once - "

" _That_ bullseye?" Lawrence exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the goddamned thing set up half a mile away. "It's the size of a penny and you're making me use a  _Hyperion_ pistol! No shit I haven't hit it!"

"Maybe you would if you were takin' any of this seriously."

"C'mon, Ax!" Lawrence whined, dragging his feet like a brat. "We haven't done anything but this in like, a week! You can't just ravish me for days on end, turn me into a sex fiend, and then drop me into this shit cold turkey and expect me to care!"

"You should care," Axton snapped, glowering at him. "You need to know how to defend yourself."

Now it was Lawrence's turn to get irritated. "Uh, hello? Did you forget I was a vault hunter once too? Yeah, I wasn't very good at it, but I can throw a punch just as well as the next guy - "

Axton's fist connecting with his chin knocked him backwards. He nearly twisted his ankle trying to right himself, half distracted by the burst of pain exploding in his jaw like he just ate a Torgue shotgun round.

"You hit me!" he screeched, outraged.

"I tapped you," Axton said, tsking.

He swung again, and it was only because Lawrence saw his fist coming that he was able to stumble back enough to lessen the commando's blow. Instead of knocking out his other bicuspid, his knuckles skimmed his nose, smacking it hard enough to make it bleed.

"Axton!" Lawrence sobbed, cupping his hand around his nose as blood began to flow freely from his nostrils. It stung like hell, but it least it wasn't broken. "What the hell’s gotten into you?"

To say he had been acting strange lately was an understatement. For nearly a week now, Axton had been forcing him to come down to the makeshift shooting range he'd set up on Pandora. Normally Lawrence wouldn't have minded the day trip, but all they ever did was train. For what, Lawrence wasn't quite sure, but shooting a gun at a target for hours on end was starting to get old.

Axton didn't look at all moved by Lawrence's tears, though to be fair they were more a reaction of physical pain rather than emotional. He picked up the pistol yet again, but when he went to grab Lawrence's hand to make him hold it, Lawrence lashed out, attempting to catch the man in the face with his fist. Axton easily side-stepped the blow, which only enraged Lawrence further.

The commando apparently hadn't been expecting Lawrence to outright attack him, if his startled expression was any indication. There was no finesse to Lawrence's moves; he just hurled himself at the other man and managed to drag him into the dust by flinging all of his weight onto him. He landed maybe two good blows to Axton's face, splitting his lip, before Axton grabbed his flailing arm and yanked, forcing him onto his side. From there on it was easy for Axton to straddle him and force his arms flat above his head.

"Is this serious enough for you?" Lawrence snarled, bringing one of his knees up to bump Axton in the back. He grunted upon impact, but remained a rock on Lawrence's chest, unmoving and unrelenting. It only made Lawrence angrier. "Get off!"

"You need to learn how to properly defend yourself! Your digital dudes might not be enough to protect you!"

"Protect me from _what_?" They were certainly strong enough to take on Hyperion robot and soldiers alike. Hell, as bad as Lawrence was with a gun on occasion, he was fairly confident in his ability to take them on as well. He had survived Elpis. He had survived Handsome Jack. He could survive whatever else Hyperion threw at him.

It was Axton who clearly wasn't so sure. His desire to help him irritated and touched Lawrence, but mostly irritated. He wasn't a goddamned child.

Whatever reply the commando might have given him turned into a grunt when Lawrence tapped into the training Athena had given him so many years ago and managed to flip the man onto his back. He went to retaliate with a roll of his own, but Lawrence scrambled on top of him, landed a blow to his face that stunned him, but not long enough for him to flip Axton onto his stomach and restrain him. A knee to his gut gave Axton the time he needed to bring Lawrence back to the ground again.

"What if that alien thing comes back for you?" Axton snarled down at him. "What if none of us are around like last time? You gonna be able to fight it off on your own?"

"You think _punching it in the face_ is going to work?"

A thought suddenly struck him so hard that it sucked all the anger out of him. He fell still and limp so quickly that it left Axton unprepared; he nearly collapsed on top of Lawrence, chest heaving with exertion as he braced his arms on either side of Lawrence's face. Their wide eyes met.

"Is that what all this is about?" Lawrence asked quietly. When Axton's gaze darted away with guilt, Lawrence snagged him by his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "Did something happen?"

It took less prodding than Lawrence thought it would to get Axton to confess. The commando kept his gaze low as he explained what happened the other night, how he had woken up to see Lawrence sleepwalking courtesy of the Watcher, and how the bastard had nearly pulled the same glowy-hand trick that he had been trying to do before in the workshop. If it hadn't been for Lilith choosing not to be like Handsome Jack, he would have been an Eridium-filled zombie right now.

Lawrence was ready to vomit by the end of the brief tale. He felt dirty - the same kind of gritty, to-the-bone dirty that he had felt upon being released from the slave collar Jack had slapped on him. Yet again, he had been piloted without his permission.

"Remind me to thank Lilith," he choked out, hugging himself.

"I wouldn't just yet. There's always a chance she might give in if the war arrives and it's worse than any of us were expectin'." Axton's face grew tight with rage. "If that happens, I'll shoot the fucker in the face before it can even think about touchin' you."

"I'm flattered, but guns don't work on that thing. We've established this."

"I know." Axton's expression continued to twist unpleasantly. "I don't care, I'll find a way to stop it."

Lawrence heaved a sigh. "The reality of it is that the only thing keeping the Watcher from taking me is Lilith's word. The damn thing's smart enough to realize that if it goes against it, it won't have any allies in this war. And right now, that's the only real defense I've got."

The truth made Axton glower down at his fists as he punched the dirt. He hadn't looked this upset since Lawrence had gotten kidnapped by bandits.

"Hold this a minute?" Lawrence asked, reaching towards him.

Axton held out his hand, still distracted by his dark thoughts, until Lawrence pulled the same stupid hand holding trick he had been pulling for the past two weeks. "You're such a nerd," he grumbled, ducking his head to hide his blush. "Go get some food, dweeb."

Lawrence squeezed his hand and leaned in closer to the commando. "I didn't say I was hungry for food," he said lowly, flashing him an eyebrow wiggle of his own.

Axton snorted, but the pout he was attempting to wear didn't suit him in that moment, giving way to a grin that rivaled the one Lawrence wore. The commando gave his hand a squeeze, then pulled him back towards the bandit technical for a romp that probably alerted every baddie in the Highlands to their position, but with Axton's auto-canon dutifully scanning the horizon, they had nothing to worry about.

"Promise me somethin'?" Axton asked later, once their lust had been sated for the time being. They lay in a sweaty, dozing pile in the back of the technical enjoying the breeze sweeping gently through the area.

"Anything," Lawrence said through a yawn. He could feel another sixteen hour nap coming on.

Axton took Lawrence's hand in his, squeezing it to catch his attention. "Promise me that no matter what, you won't let the Watcher have you. Even if it tries usin' me or the others to blackmail you into doin' it."

That woke Lawrence up. "You're worth my freedom," he blurted. Blushing, he quickly added, "You all are. I would give everything - "

"Promise me, Law," Axton said. His gaze was as solid as the grip he had on Lawrence's hand.

"I don't like making promises I'm not sure I can keep."

The commando sighed and shut his eyes, his brow creased. He didn't look angry. He probably knew that would be Lawrence's answer. They had been around each other long enough to pick up on things like that.

Lawrence lowered himself back down and snuggled up close to Axton, his head on his shoulder. "I'll keep resisting," he promised, "but not if it drags you into this."

Axton hummed, still not happy about it, but didn't resist Lawrence's cuddles. He leaned his chin on Lawrence's head and sighed heavily, both with exhaustion and despair.

"Can you promise _me_ something?" Lawrence asked after a while of somber silence.

"Maybe."

Lawrence bit his lip and traced small circles on Axton's chest. "If I do wind up being taken by that thing, promise me that you'll try to stop me."

"Don't gotta worry 'bout that. It'll have to pry you outta my cold, dead fingers before I let it have you."

Lawrence grimaced. "Not a great mental picture to leave me with, man."

"Yeah, well, I don't appreciate you fillin' my head with images of you turnin' into a zombie thanks to the Watcher, so I guess we're even now."

Lawrence flicked Axton's nipple, making the man grunt. "You're a penis."

"No, you."

"I am what I eat."

Axton busted out in a laugh that shook the whole technical and melted away the ice that had gathered in Lawrence's chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	34. Chapter 34

Lawrence awoke with a hoarse scream and proceeded to whack the living shit out of Axton when he tried to calm him. His senses were still in his nightmare, still processing the sight of bodies piling up in the streets, the smell of death and burning flesh, the sounds of people screaming as their lives came to brutal, painful ends. He could taste ash and blood in his mouth; it made him gag and scream and thrash until Axton's arms encircled him and held him close.

"They're burning," he gasped to the commando. He gripped him tightly as he babbled, afraid that if he let go he would be swept back into that nightmare world. "They're burning, everyone's burning, and the sky's fallen, and - "

"A dream," Axton assured him, sounding a little frantic himself. "You were dreaming, darlin'. Everything's fine. Look."

With some gentle reassurance, Axton moved away from him to open the blinds. It was a bright, sunny day outside, and people could be heard milling about in the streets, as usual.

"Perfectly normal," Axton promised, offering him a tentative smile. His lip was split, Lawrence noted guiltily. His eye would probably swell a bit too from the punch Lawrence landed there.

"I'm sorry." Lawrence curled his legs to his chest, shuddering. "It was so real. Worse than the last time."

"Last time?" Axton moved back to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. He bent over to snag a strip of cloth from his satchel and dabbed at his face. "What happened last time?"

"Well, it's always the same thing," Lawrence muttered, frowning at the small blood spots that began to soak into the fabric as Axton pressed it to his nose. "The whole planet's been razed, everyone's dead or dying. It's never been this graphic before, though. I could - I could _smell_ the death and destruction."

"That's weird. You think it's like...a premonition of something to come?" Axton asked, cocking a brow at him as he balled the fabric up and tossed it across the room.

Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut as he recalled the sight of Sanctuary scattered in huge, burning chunks across the hills of the Highlands, which were no longer green but brown and barren. The streets of that hadn't been destroyed upon impact were stacked with corpses, most singed beyond recognition. Others Lawrence could identify - friends he had grown close to over the past couple of months reduced to charred flesh peeled back to expose their burnt muscle and bone. The smell was unbearable; just remembering it was enough to make him gag.

"I really, really hope not," he choked out, dragging his hand across his mouth. "It's probably just a result of the damn Watcher messing with me." It had been weeks since the bastard had attacked him, and his visions had only been getting worse since then. 

Axton frowned and scooted closer so that he could sit next to him, his bare shoulder brushing up against Lawrence's fabric-covered one. The commando was nude, as usual when it was just the two of them in the hostel room, while Lawrence found comfort in wearing Axton's shirt, if only because it made him feel safe.

"Want me to take your mind off it?" Axton asked, waggling his eyebrows and moving in closer. He sucked Lawrence's earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it, almost instantly turning Lawrence to mush. If he wasn't already going to accept Axton's offer, that would have certainly sealed the deal.

"Help me forget," he said quietly, arching against the commando's lips as they began to make their way down his neck. Axton always liked to lavish his scars with attention, especially the ones on his neck despite the fact that the skin around the old puncture wounds was about as dull as the rest of the tainted parts of him. Lawrence never asked him why. He himself had a tendency to focus his attention on the man's thighs, so who was he to complain about weird focal points?

Several minutes later, Lawrence was riding Axton rather enthusiastically when Gaige flung open the door with reckless abandon, yelling about something that quickly dissolved into just plain screaming as all three of the room's occupants scrambled for cover. Lawrence snagged a pillow and outright rolled backwards off the bed, leaving Axton fumbling with the blankets to cover his shame. Gaige was still standing in the doorway with her hands over her eyes and her head tilted back towards the heavens.

"It burns!" she wailed. "How many times am I gonna walk in on you guys doin' the do?"

"If you started knockin' first, we wouldn't have this issue!" Axton snarled, gripping a handful of blankets to his loins as he hastily began to search for a pair of pants. "Christ, Gaige, this is the fourth time now!"

"I thought you guys would've been bored with each other by now! Ugh, this whole room stinks like sex!" She moved to the nearest window, keeping her eyes half-shut, and pushed it open, filling the room with the stank of the outside world. "Gross. I never thought I'd say this, but you guys need to go outside and do something productive that doesn't have anything to do with your dicks."

Axton huffed. "Is there a reason why you kicked down my door and nearly gave us a heart attack, you little brat?"

"Hammerlock's got a massive mission for us. Gotta report to HQ in an hour for briefing. Can I open my eyes now?"

"Just get out!"

Gaige huffed obnoxiously but obeyed, if the sound of the door slamming shut was any indication. Lawrence continued to stare blankly up at the ceiling from his position on the floor until Axton sighed and flopped onto the bed, lying diagonally so that he could peer over the side at Lawrence.

"I guess that kinda killed the mood," he mused sadly.

Lawrence chuckled and began to get up, keeping the pillow in place over his groin. "I gotta get ready for work anyway."

"Work?"

"I didn't tell you? Moxxi offered me a job at her place a few days ago, while you, Zero and Gaige were at Oasis."

He had originally met the offer with trepidation, thinking that perhaps she was going to try to assign him a mission, but he had been left pleasantly surprised when Moxxi told him about how she was in need of a new dishwasher since her last one had gotten himself killed somewhere in the Arid Badlands on a fishing trip. It was utterly menial and boring compared to everything else he'd done lately, but it was also something to keep his mind off of things and his hands busy. He couldn't say no.

"Yeah?" Axton accepted his shirt as Lawrence passed it to him. "Doin' what exactly?" Lawrence could hear the uncertainty in his tone; it was actually kind of cute.

"Stripping, working the pole - that kind of gig."

Axton's head got stuck halfway through the neck hole of his shirt, only allowing one frantic eye to peer at him for a second before the commando flailed and finally managed to yank the damn thing down. "You better be shittin' me, man," he said shrilly.

"I am," Lawrence said through a laugh as he reached over to fix Axton's frizzy hair. "No, it's just washing dishes for now. Doesn't pay the best, but it's better than nothing." He had been mooching off his friends for far too long. "She says that I could get promoted to fixing drinks and taking orders if everything goes well."

"Yeah?" A grin tugged on the commando's thin lips. "Does that mean you plan on sticking around here for a while?"

Lawrence returned his grin with a shy one of his own. "If you'll have me."

Axton leaned in closer until their foreheads were practically touching. "Oh, I'll have you all right," he growled, playfully capturing his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Work," Lawrence gasped, putting a firm hand on Axton's chest to push him back. "And you've got a mission. You shouldn't be late for the briefing or they might leave without you."

Axton rolled his entire body in protest and fell forward onto the bed with a childish groan. "I just wanna stay here and fuck," he whined, voice muffled by the pillow his face was currently mushed into.

Lawrence shook his head as he began to get dressed. "There'll be plenty of time for that later, assuming you don't come back from the mission in pieces - "

He was halfway through pulling his pants up when he glanced at Axton and was suddenly bombarded by images of the man lying on the ground in a puddle of his own blood with half of his organs spilling from his slashed gut. The parts of his skin that hadn't been viciously split open were burnt and shriveled up against his pale bones; the only reason he even knew the man was Axton was because he could still see his chevrons glistening in the firelight, shiny and chrome against the charred flesh they were stapled into.

"Darlin’, have some faith in me!" Axton said, rolling off the bed onto his feet. He clasped his hands above his head and stretched, making the muscles on his scarred back ripple. "Or at least, have some faith in my turret. She knows what she's doin'." He turned to flash Lawrence a reassuring smile, but it died halfway when he noticed the look of horror on the other man's face. "Law? You good?"

Lawrence made a strangled noise in response, unable to sneak words past the utter fright that had seized him.

Axton immediately moved to him and gave his shoulders a squeeze, reassuring him of his presence but not smothering him with it. "Where are you?" he asked softly but firmly.

Slowly Lawrence moved forward and into his arms. His own came up around the commando's back, feeling his whole, warm flesh with the parts of his palms that were still working. "Here," he said through a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm here."

Axton hummed, vibrating in his chest as well as Lawrence's. He thankfully didn't prod him for info on what he saw. Lawrence was glad; he wasn't sure how he could explain seeing him as a roasted corpse lying in a puddle of his own guts.

_You're fucking pathetic_ , Jack snarled. Lawrence almost jerked at the sound of the tyrant's voice; it had been a while since he'd made an appearance. _All you do is freak the fuck out and make a load out of yourself. It's a wonder why this idiot commando even puts up with your crazy ass._

I'm just lucky, I guess, Lawrence thought, shutting his eyes.

"You wanna shower?" Axton asked eventually. "I can go grab us some grub in the meantime."

Lawrence tightened his grip before he forced himself to step back. The words "stay with me" tingled on the tip of his tongue, but he was loathe to set them free. He was too clingy as it was.

"Sounds good," he said instead, flashing him a tired smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll save some hot water for you."

"You'd better," the commando teased, moving towards the door. "Sausages or bacon?"

"Sausages."

"Heathen," the commando hissed right before darting outside. He shut the door behind him, and Lawrence went into the bathroom, hoping to rid himself of the feeling of dread that had lodged itself firmly in his gut.

~

He arrived to work fifteen minutes late, but with a bounce in his step that did not go unnoticed by the bar's handful of patrons or the owner of the joint.

"You're lucky business is slow right now," Moxxi told him, cocking a brow as he snagged an apron from behind the counter and slipped it over his head. "Busy morning, I take it?"

"Mm-hmm," Lawrence hummed, unable to stop grinning. Axton had gotten back with breakfast faster than anticipated and had decided to hop in the shower alongside Lawrence, which, of course, meant it took them twenty or so minutes to actually start washing since the commando was so intent on getting him dirty all over again. "Sorry. There're just some things you don't say no to."

That got the businesswoman smirking. "Oh, honey, I know. You'll have to tell me all about it on break. I've been dying to find out if that man can use his mouth for something other than shit-talking and spouting memes."

Lawrence's body gave a shudder, which seemed to be answer enough for Moxxi.

About two hours into his shift, Axton came into the bar asking for him. It was strange that he would show up so late after a briefing; it must be one hell of a mission, Lawrence thought as he poked his head out of the kitchen. He found the commando standing by the counter looking a little grim until he caught sight of him. His eyes lit up, but his smile didn't reach them.

"I'm gonna be gone for a while," he said, leaning against the counter. "Mission's out in the middle of a goddamned swamp of all places. There probably isn't a whole lot of ECHOnet access out there, but I'll try to give you a call."

Lawrence frowned. He knew better than to ask how long “a while” was. When you were in the vault hunting business, things seldom go as planned, meaning that “a while” could be a few days or a few weeks. Besides, asking would make him sound like a nagging housewife.

"What's the mission?" he asked instead.

"Hammerlock's got us hunting this dude from Hyperion down - says he crash landed there a while ago and has been stirring up trouble with the locals."

Lawrence's eyebrows shot up. "Hyperion?" he echoed. "Who?"

"I dunno, Hammerlock didn't say and I didn't ask. I can give you the details when I get back." He hesitated and chewed on his lip for a second. “Unless you think I should stay here.”

Lawrence sent him a look, then sputtered out a small laugh of disbelief. “What? Ax, you can go a week or so without sex - ”

“No, no, I mean the whole business with the Watcher. I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t like the idea of you bein’ here essentially by yourself.”

“But I’m not,” Lawrence said, gesturing to everything around him. Granted, most of what was around him were drunken bar patrons, but it was the general idea he was going for. “Everyone knows the Watcher has it out for me. I’ll have my doubles,” he lifted his watch-clad wrist for emphasis, “and Lilith and the Raiders are all over the place. I’ll be fine.”

Axton hummed, still frowning down at the counter between them.

“Go, Ax. You haven’t been on a mission like this in far too long.” Lawrence flashed him a reassuring smile. “Find some fortune and glory while you’re out there, okay?”

That got a small smirk out of the shorter man. “All right.”

Lawrence almost told him to "be careful" and "hurry back," but those were meaningless words to a vault hunter. Instead, he curled a finger at the commando, urging him to lean farther over the counter so that they were inches from each other. When Lawrence kissed him, Axton groaned softly into it.

"Gonna miss this," he mumbled the second their lips parted enough for him to speak.

"There'll be plenty of this once you get back," Lawrence told him, which was as good of a concerned goodbye he could offer. He paused a moment, recalling the pleasant activities they had taken part in only a few hours ago. "Actually, when do you leave?"

Axton's eye darted to the clock hanging amidst the crap on the wall of the bar. "Three minutes."

Lawrence let out a huff. "No time for handjobs in the bathroom even." He met Axton's gaze and was pleased to find that his silver orbs were dilated with lust. "Too bad. Guess you'll just have to wait."

The commando growled deep in his chest and claimed another kiss, this one crushing and almost desperate. When he pulled away, Lawrence nearly chased his lips with his own.

"When I get back," Axton promised.

Lawrence watched him leave, not even bothering to hide the fact that his eyes were blatantly glued to the man's ass. By the time he snapped out of it, it was too late to even think of an explanation for Moxxi, who had apparently seen the entire exchange, if the wide smirk on her face was any indication.

He just shrugged and offered her a genuine smile. "Cute, right?"

~

Washing dishes for hours on end was about as boring as it sounded, but it allowed Lawrence to mentally shut down for a bit. Business picked up around noon time, which gave him a steady stream of things to scrub. It felt good to be doing legitimate work again. He felt useful. And the wad of cash Moxxi handed him at the end of his six hour shift certainly was a perk as well.

She had probably given him more than he deserved, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He returned to Axton's hostel room and went to stash it away in a safe, but realized that he shouldn't be putting his money in a house that wasn't his. That was way too domestic.

_Who do you think you're kidding?_ Timothy muttered.

Lawrence shut his eyes and let out an irritated sigh. He and Axton were in a relationship, yes, but that was all. They liked and respected each other. There was no time or place for - for _love_ on Pandora.

He put those thoughts out of his mind and spent the rest of the day writing. Bits and pieces of the world he had created were slowly coming back to him in increments, though the more he figured things out, the more he realized that things were taking a turn in the opposite direction that the original plot had been headed in. He had yet to figure out if that was a good or bad thing.

The days trickled on. He meditated in the mornings when he remembered to set his alarm and in the evenings when he forgot. It was harder without Maya there as a steady presence beside him, but he managed. He volunteered to help out at the Crimson Raiders HQ doing more menial work like washing dishes or scrubbing the floors, if only to help keep his mind off of how slowly the days were passing. The Raiders seemed to appreciate the extra pair of hands.

Lawrence's presence around Sanctuary had become normal for most folks. They weren't going out of their way to say hello to him, but the dirty looks and frightened exclamations had died out almost completely. He still wore his hood up in public, more so for his own benefit than someone else's, but it was nice to know that if he wanted to, he could go without it.

It was nearly a week later that Lawrence finally heard back from Axton. The call had been recorded and was crackly and practically indecipherable, but Lawrence listened to it anyway. He could make out the commando's complaints about the humidity and the savage locals, but he still didn't drop the name of the guy they were hunting. As long as they took care of him, Lawrence kept telling himself not to worry about it.

He worried anyway. He had nothing else to do outside of his job and writing.

The nightmares started up again, leaving him wrecked in the mornings with no one to help calm him. Ironically, he found solace in the shooting range in Marcus's shop, though he insisted on using legitimate targets and not people or loader bots, much to the gun merchant's irritation. Despite not actively taking part in killing people anymore, it still calmed him to have a loaded gun in his hands. He still wasn't great with them, but he would be considered good enough should that war ever actually take place. If his dreams actually were a sign of things to come, they were going to need every gunman on the planet.

Halfway through the second week, Athena returned from Elpis unannounced. Lawrence was just coming off his shift when the gladiator walked through the side door of Moxxi's place.

Lawrence dropped his coat. "Athena!" he exclaimed, snagging the woman's attention right before he barreled into her. "Oh my gosh, it's so good to see you!" he babbled into her hair, practically nuzzling the side of her head. "I was starting to think you decided to stay up there with Janey!"

"Lawrence," she said through a breathy laugh as she returned his hug. She pulled him back at arm's length and flashed him a genuine smile. "You look wonderful."

"You too," Lawrence gasped, grinning as he sized her up. Though she wore the same clothes and armor, there was a different air about her, one that didn't radiate the intense seriousness that she used to. As Athena shifted to the side to reveal Janey strolling in behind her, Lawrence figured out why.

"Janey," he greeted warmly. "Welcome to the shithole that is Pandora."

The moonwalker lit up when she saw him, which honestly surprised him, as she had yet to see how scarred up he'd gotten since their last meeting. Knowing Janey, though, none of that would matter to her. "Lawrence!" she cried, scooping him into a bone-crushing hug. "So good to see ya!”

"How's Pandora treating you so far?" Lawrence asked once she released him from her vice grip.

"Still gettin' used to the gravity. I keep forgettin' I can't just jump and drift from place to place."

Athena nodded in agreement. "She took one step off the shuttle and fell on her face."

"I did not!" Janey exclaimed, whirling on her in mock-anger. "I just...lost my footing is all!"

"Yes. And fell on your face."

As the lovely couple continued to playfully bicker, Lawrence's gaze drifted past them as a very tall third person walked through the door. He had to duck under the door frame lest he bash his helmet-clad head on it. The guy was wearing a Lost Legion space suit of all things, though it looked like it had seen its fair share of rough times. Realization was dawning on Lawrence just as the guy removed his helmet, revealing himself to be none other than Davis Pickle.

"Holy crap, kid!" Lawrence exclaimed, craning his head back to see Pickle's face. Gone were his boyish features, replaced by a squarer jaw and narrower eyes, though they still retained their youthful, mischievous gleam. "You're - you're not a kid anymore."

The man grinned, exposing the familiar gap between his front teeth. "I 'it a bit of a growth spurt over the past couple'a months," he admitted with a shrug of his broad shoulders. His accent was as strong as ever, though his voice had gotten deeper, making it slightly less grating. "I 'ear that tends to 'appen when you hit puberty. Funny thing, that. Also bloody annoying."

"Well, I'm glad you could join us all down here. How's it treating you? Fall out of any space ships lately like Janey here?" Janey reached over and punched him in the arm. "Ow."

"The air's troublin' me ol' lungs a bit," Pickle said, bringing his fist to his chest, "but considerin' I've been kickin’ and prancin’ on the moon most a' my life, I ain't at all surprised. I'll get used to it."

Lawrence cracked a grin. "Does that mean you guys are staying?"

"Maybe not in Sanctuary," Janey said, shrugging, "but Pandora seems like a good place to set up shop for a bit. I've got my eye on that...what's that car thing called, hon?" she asked, looking at Athena. "Catch-A-Cold or somethin'?"

"Catch-A-Ride."

"That," Janey said, turning back to Lawrence. "Thinkin' of maybe buyin' it, or at least strikin' up a partnership with the guy who runs it. Might be a good way to make some decent coin around here. Say, can you point us in the right direction? His name's Scooter."

"Oh, Scooter." Lawrence pointed out the front door and instructed her to head straight down the road until she reaches the end. "Building's on the right. Can't miss it."

Janey smiled at him in thanks and gave Athena a quick peck on the cheek before she headed out the door with Pickle following after. Lawrence watched them go for a minute before he turned back to Athena and wiggled his eyebrows.

"So?" he drawled.

"So?" the gladiator echoed as her face began to turn an interesting shade of pink.

"I want all the details, girl!" Lawrence exclaimed, snagging her hand and dragging her over to the nearest empty booth. He sat down across from her and leaned forward expectantly, not even bothering to tone down the shit-eating grin on his face. "How did it go? Clearly she said yes!"

Athena huffed, still red in the face. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours." Lawrence opened his mouth to protest, but she silence him with one cocked eyebrow. "Are you going to try to tell me you and Axton haven't gotten together while I've been gone? Seriously?"

Now it was Lawrence's turn to blush. "You want the raunchy stuff too? 'Cos I charge for that. Just ask Moxxi."

Athena rolled her eyes. "You can keep that information to yourself, thanks.” She kept her gaze level with his, clearly waiting for him to speak.

He sighed in defeat and gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Just...I dunno, all the flirting finally came to a head," he said, deciding to leave out the part where he almost got an unwanted lobotomy. "Alcohol played a hand in it too, but for once it helped rather than hurt. There's really not much else to it."

Athena nodded, satisfied. "It was fairly simple for me as well," she admitted. "Janey greeted me in Concordia like I'd only been gone a few hours, not a few years. We caught up on things over dinner. I asked her if she wanted to come back to Pandora with me. She accepted much faster than I thought she would. I thought her business might tie her down more, but, as she told you, she's looking to expand."

"And Pickle?"

"He readily accepted my proposal, too. There's nothing up there for anyone anymore, least of all a child." She paused. "Or man, I should say. I can hardly believe it either."

Lawrence grinned. "Gaige is going to be all over him," he mused. "Poor kid won't know what hit him."

"I think he's more interested in tech than girls at the moment."

"I'm sure she'll convince him that both are pretty awesome things."

Athena made a noise of agreement, though clearly she was in favor of one thing over the other. "It's still...new for me," she admitted almost bitterly. "Janey’s being very patient, but I know it's going to start wearing her down. It's been almost a month and we haven't really been intimate. Kisses don't count."

"They do too count. And there's nothing wrong with taking things slow. Axton and I had to go one step at a time because I was still so uptight about my body for a while. It's just something that you and your partner have to be okay with and talk about."

Athena hummed quietly. "I'm just...worried that she's going to get tired of waiting."

"You want my opinion?" Lawrence took her hands in his. "The way you two look at each other when the other one isn't aware makes me think that everything will be just fine. She waited for you for years. She can wait a bit longer to tango."

"I know. I just don't want to screw this up."

Lawrence's eyes widened. "Oh, so this is like...serious?"

"I'm quite serious about it, yes."

"I mean, you..." He lowered his voice. "You love her?"

Athena bit her lip. "I think so. As someone who's never been shown one ounce of love until recently, it's hard for me to say if what I'm feeling is actually love." Her gray eyes drifted to the door Janey had disappeared through. "I do know that I would die for her in a heartbeat. That has to mean something."

"I'd say so, yeah."

"What about you?" she asked suddenly, turning her attention back to him. "Do you love Axton?"

Though he really should have expected it - Athena was never one to beat around the bush - the question still made his insides freeze and twist unpleasantly. He had been doing his hardest not to even think of the four-letter-word, let alone how it related to his and Axton's relationship. Now, though, it looked like Athena wasn't about to let him get away without answering her. 

"I...don't know," he said honestly, keeping his gaze on the table. "We haven't been together all that long. What we've got going on right now - it's...it's fine. Amazing. I'm happy with it, I think he's happy with it. I don't want to risk putting a label on it only to have it fall apart."

The gladiator's brows furrowed. "You think it'll end that way?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I'm trying to just roll with whatever each day gives me, you know? If it happens, it happens. But..." He cracked a small smirk. "I don't think I'll have to worry about that for a while."

It took a moment for Athena to understand what he was getting at. "The, uh, sex is that good?" she asked awkwardly, shifting in her seat.

"Oh, yeah," Lawrence said through a laugh that seemed to put her at ease. "Eat, sleep, fuck. That's all we've been doing in between missions and work, really. It's the good life."

She sent him a gentle, relieved look. "Well, I'm glad you're happy, Lawrence. You look so much more alive now."

"I feel more alive," Lawrence admitted, flashing a pleased smile. "I've still got my issues, but for the most part, I really am happy."

"Good. You deserve it."

"So do you," he told her. "I'm glad you've come back, Athena. I missed you." His eyes began to sting with tears; he laughed wetly as he wiped them away. "I really, really missed you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	35. Chapter 35

Without Axton around to either ravish him senseless or bug the crap out of him, time in Sanctuary passed very slowly. Athena's presence in the city certainly helped to keep Lawrence distracted for a while, but every night when he returned to Axton's empty flat, he was forced to recall how commando-less his day had truly been. It made his chest hurt.

Still, the planet kept spinning, and he had work to do. He washed dishes and even graduated to serving customers their drinks once it became clear that nobody gave a shit what he looked like so long as he handed over their booze. On his days off, he sometimes hung out with Janey and Scooter in his garage, usually just watching them work, though sometimes Pickle would show up, pilfer something, and leave Scooter a fuming mess as he threatened the kid's life for messing with his stuff. Athena tolerated Lawrence's company and even roped him into training with her on occasion, though that usually left her irritated and him sore in places he hadn't used since Elpis. He didn't mind, though. He was just happy to see her after months of her being away, and a part of him knew that she felt the same way, as grumpy as her appearance made her seem.

Finally, one night in the middle of a B&B game, Lawrence got a live call from Axton. He ducked out into the hallway as he answered it, not wanting Lilith, Brick, Tina or Mordecai to tease him over the dumb excited grin on his face.

"Hey," greeted the commando over a rush of static. "Hope your butt's prepared, 'cos I'm gonna be comin' in hot in a day or two."

Lawrence laughed as a warm feeling burst across his chest. "I can hardly wait," he said, sounding as sarcastic as he could. “How'd it go?"

"It was fine," Axton said a little too quickly. Someone had probably almost died and had threatened him into silence. "Killed a guy, got a buttload of money and loot - the usual."

"Good," Lawrence said, leaving it up in the air as to what he was pleased with. He bit his lip and cast a cursory glance over his shoulder to make sure the others were still thoroughly distracted by the game. "Are you broadcasting this?"

"Nah, I wouldn't be able to hear you over how fast Sal's pushing this poor machine. Gaige is workin' on a...on somethin' too and is bein' super noisy. Can barely hear you in my ear piece as it is. Why?"

Lawrence moved further down the hallway and leaned against the wall. "What are you wearing?"

There came a long pause from Axton's end. Lawrence could almost see the blush creeping over the commando's sun-dusted cheeks. "Yes," he said through gritted teeth, "Gaige and Zero are right here. Everyone's right here, Law. We're all fine, thank you for asking."

Lawrence chuckled. "Cute," he cooed, "but my question still stands."

"I...the usual."

"I bet you're filthy from that swamp. I can't wait to tear those clothes off you and dump you in the shower."

"Yeah, that - that'd be nice," Axton said, trying so hard to sound casual. "You gonna join me?" he asked in a quieter voice.

"Of course. Maybe I'll have it hot and ready right when you walk in the door. Just the way you like it."

"Yeah?" Axton's voice sounded hoarse now, though that might have been the poor reception. "That - yeah, that sounds good. Um. I'm - I'm gonna hang up now."

Lawrence frowned. He would have sworn this type of thing had been right up Axton's alley, but there was still so much he didn't know about the man. Maybe he was wrong. "Okay," he muttered, dropping the seductive tone of voice. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Uh!" Axton grunted, sounding panicked now. "I-I mean - fuck, hold on a sec, I can't, um, hear you." There came a strange noise and a brief silence, like he was moving to a different seat. The static caused by the wind lessened slightly, and when Axton spoke again, Lawrence was able to hear him more clearly. "What ‘bout you?"

"Huh?"

"What are you, um...the usual too, I assume?"

Lawrence felt a small smirk tugging on his lips as he moved further down the hall. "Actually, I'm down a few layers. Just my shirt and - oh," he looked down at himself and let out a little noise of surprise. "I'm wearing one of yours. The gray one with the holes in the left sleeve." He had fond memories of wearing it on particularly cold nights where Axton's heat just wasn't enough to keep his bones and scars from aching. "Must have mixed up the laundry."

"You doin' my laundry?" Axton asked, chuckling. "Nice of you."

"Yeah," Lawrence mumbled, suddenly feeling as if he was walking a very, very thin line between what was okay and what wasn't. "I mean, there's not much else to do around here other than clean that pigsty you call a hostel room."

"It ain't that bad," Axton said. "Hell, if it pisses you off so much, maybe I'll look into buyin' a bigger place. With the dough I made off of this last batch of jobs, I could probably just buy the damn hostel."

_Abort, abort_ , Jack was chanting.

"Save your money," Lawrence said quickly, lowering his voice back into the slur that had the other man stumbling over his words. "You're going to need to buy a whole new outfit after I tear it off you with my teeth."

Axton let out a breathy laugh. "Didn't we just discuss how filthy I am?"

"I might not be able to wait for you to shower. It's been so long. Almost three weeks." He let out a heavy sigh right into the mouthpiece. "Three long, hard weeks. With nothing but my hand to keep me happy."

_You cheesy idiot_ , Timothy muttered. He wasn't wrong - this was some grade-A Moxxi-levels of seduction he was currently putting into play, but if Lawrence stopped to think about it, he'd chicken out.

It took Axton a second to respond, probably because he was glancing around at the others to make sure no one was actively listening. "You think you've got it hard?" he asked quietly and so quickly that Lawrence almost couldn't comprehend him. "I haven't been able to - you know - at all since we got out here, so of course my asshole brain decides to give me all these dreams about you, about all the things I wanna do to you."

"Go on," Lawrence whispered, glancing back at the doorway at the end of the hall. The coast was still clear. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Axton.

The man cursed. "I can't...talk about that now..." he gritted out, sounding beyond irritated and disappointed. "Make some educated guesses."

Lawrence hummed. "Well, I imagine you’d have me on my knees at some point,” he mused. “I miss the taste of you. Your scent.” He heard Axton exhale through his nose. “I’d take you into my mouth as far as I can go, just so I can bury my nose against your skin and get a deep whiff. Or maybe you’d like me on my back with my legs hooked over your shoulders? I’ve missed that, too - having you so deep inside me that I’m seeing stars and unable to say anything but your name over and over. My fingers just don’t have the same effect as your cock.”

"Fuck," Axton breathed. "Damn you for being so good at storytellin'. It's like another twenty-some hours 'til we get back and I can't do shit about what's happenin' in my pants right now - "

"Oh my god!" Lawrence heard Gaige distantly shriek, cutting the commando's hissed words off. "Are you having phone sex with Law over the ECHOnet? Oh my god, Ax, you are so gross! I'm three feet from you!"

"Gaige, stop yell - shit, I didn't - put the gun down!"

Lawrence bit his lip, torn between being disappointed and laughing at Axton's misfortune. "See you when you get back," he said over the ruckus before hanging up, grinning from ear to ear.

~

He was in the last home stretch of his shift at Moxxi's when the locals began to chatter about the return of the vault hunters. With nothing else to do around the town, most of them filed out the front entrance to catch a glimpse of them. Lawrence eyed them, jealous, and began to vibrate so hard that Moxxi eventually rolled her eyes and told him to get the hell out before he broke a plate.

Lawrence would deny that he outright sprinted out of Moxxi's towards the growing crowd near the center of town. He elbowed his way through the gaps before breaking into the clearing where the vault hunters stood dividing up the goods they’d scored on the trip. Axton immediately caught sight of him and broke out in a dazzling grin that made Lawrence weak in the knees.

"You weren't kidding," Lawrence remarked as the man approached him. "You're pretty gross right now."

"Swamps'll do that to ya," the commando said, still grinning. "What, no welcome home kiss?"

Lawrence snagged him by the front of his crusty-ass uniform and tugged him forwards. He tasted like sewage and blood and gunpowder, but Lawrence didn't mind. He also didn’t mind the few catcalls and whistles coming from some of the still lingering crowd, either; if anything, they made him giddy. Now everyone in town was going to know that Axton was his, the greedy little part of his mind crowed.

"I am going to ravage you," he promised quietly before stealing another kiss. Axton rumbled and went to pull him in closer, but Lawrence put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back a foot. " _After_ you bathe. You stink worse than a dumpster. I wish I was exaggerating."

"Aw," Axton said sadly, frowning but not protesting. He was probably looking forward to a shower more than anything at this point.

Lawrence smiled at him before his gaze drifted to the others standing a few feet away. He went to greet them all, but froze at the sight of someone unknown standing among them. They were short, maybe the height of a five-year-old, and shrouded by a ratty old cloak that covered everything but their bare feet. Well, foot. Their left one was intact, but their right foot was long gone, replaced by a makeshift prosthetic that screamed Gaige's handiwork, if the pink skulls dotting the metal plates were any indication.

"Who's that?" he asked Axton, nodding towards the hooded figure. "Is that the guy you were supposed to kill?"

"Nah, that dude's dead as shit," Axton said quickly, lifting an arm to rub at the back of his head. He did that when he was nervous. "This is, um. Somethin' we really need to talk to Lilith about before we do anythin' else."

Lawrence was growing more concerned by the second. "Who is it?" he asked again, this time more demanding.

While Axton fumbled for excuses, the cloaked stranger made their way over to them, their fake leg clanking with each jerky step and looking very uncomfortable to maneuver in. It was like they were still trying to get used to having the metal appendage.

The sight baffled Lawrence. He looked to the others, seeking answers since Axton was failing to deliver, only to find the rest of the gang appearing very on edge. Gaige looked ready to throw herself forward to snag the stranger and pull him back into their ring of safety, which immediately threw up more alarms in Lawrence's mind. A lead ball quickly settled in his gut.

Lawrence's nostrils flared as the stranger snagged Axton by the arm before wrapping a tiny hand around one of his fingers with all the shyness of a child. Judging by their height, they probably were. That didn't stop Lawrence from getting irritated on top of concerned.

"Hi there," he said awkwardly, snagging the kid's attention. He tried to keep his tone light, but his words were tumbling through clenched teeth. "What's your name, kiddo?"

The kid didn't reply, but they did tilt their head back enough to make their hood slip down. A chorus of muttered curses and gasps erupted from the gang standing behind him, but Lawrence barely heard them, too stunned by the sight of the kid’s face.

A youthful Jack stood before him, all wide-eyed and wild-haired from being exposed so suddenly. There were differences - his hair was lighter, face more round - but there was no denying that the person standing before him was a miniature, handicapped version of Handsome Jack.

Lawrence was thrown to the backseat of his own body as rage consumed him. He snagged the tomahawk off of Axton's belt and was two feet from burying the damn thing in the kid's face when Krieg snatched him out of the air and restrained him. Lawrence thrashed wildly and landed several good kicks to Krieg's shins and knees, but the dude barely moved.

"Swiper no swiping!" the behemoth snarled into Lawrence's ear, but he didn't hear him, too enraged.

"The fuck is that?" he shouted, gaze still locked onto the monster now cowering behind Axton. "What the _fuck_ is that?"

"He's a clone!" Maya explained quickly, wrestling the weapon out of Lawrence's grasp before he could turn it on Krieg in his blind rage. "We found him during the mission Hammerlock sent us on - "

Lawrence jerked out of Krieg's grip and stumbled backwards, bumping into Axton. The commando tried to put placating hands on his shoulder, but Lawrence whirled around and pointed an accusing finger at him.

"You fucking knew," he hissed. "The last time you called me, you could have said something...!"

"And have you react like this?" Axton asked, holding up his hands. The monster behind him shuddered and buried his face in Axton's leg, which only further set Lawrence off.

"Somebody better start talking," he raged, backing away from the group in order to glower at the lot of them. "I want to know everything. Start _talking_!"

Axton exhaled heavily and dragged a hand over his face. "We were goin' to take him to Lilith and explain what happened. Can you wait thirty seconds so we can walk to HQ?" he snapped, sounding as tired as he looked.

Lawrence could only stand there, vibrating with the rage he couldn't unleash on the miniature Jack. He couldn't believe that they - of all people - had let such a hideous creation survive this long. And they even helped it! he raged, glowering at the prosthetic glistening in the hot midday sun. They had clothed him and given him the power to walk!

_They can't be trusted_ , the Jack in his head was whispering vehemently. _Told you, I told you, you can’t trust bandits, kiddo._

"Lawrence," Zero spoke suddenly, "please calm down. We can explain everything. Come back to HQ."

The androgynous creature's voice was soothing, but not enough to completely sap the rage out of Lawrence. Blood was beginning to run down his fists from how hard he'd dug his nails into his palms.

It was Maya who figured it out first. "Timothy," she said.

Lawrence's head jerked around to fix that wild gaze and gritted teeth on her.

Maya sent the others a look that plainly stated that they should start making their way to HQ. They hesitantly did so, being sure to give Timothy a wide berth as they began to shuffle down the street. Axton spared him one last unreadable look before ushering the kid forward.

Once they were out of earshot, Maya placed a tentative hand on Timothy's arm. "Breathe," she urged softly. "I know you're upset - "

"I'm going to kill that thing," he snarled, yanking away from her.

She didn't flinch at the sudden movement. "Why are you so angry?"

"Because!" he yelled. "I thought I was done with that fucker! I thought I never had to worry about him screwing up my life again!"

Maya's brows furrowed. "He's a _child_ , Timothy. He might have Jack's genes, but he's not Jack. Just like you."

Timothy's lips peeled back in a snarl. He sent her a scalding look that probably would have killed her if he'd had the power.

"Just - listen to the whole story before you try to chop his head off, all right?" she begged. "That's all I ask."

"It had better be one hell of a good story," he seethed.

"I can't say it's particularly enthralling, but it should answer your questions," she said as they began to make their way towards HQ. Timothy's steps were jerky, like he was struggling to remain upright. She glanced sideways at him. "Forgetting the past isn't always the best course of action, you know."

"Oh, but dwelling on the horrible things that jackass put me through is?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "A wise man once said, 'Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.' Sometimes, remembering the past and accepting it as a part of your life allows you to find some peace and move on."

Timothy snorted. "I had plenty of peace up until five minutes ago," he grumbled.

Maya sighed. "Well, I hope you find it again."

By the time they joined the others at the HQ conference room, Lawrence had calmed down enough to walk straight and not want to snap the kid's neck upon seeing him again. Instead he kinda sorta just wanted to strangle him, especially when he walked into the room and found the little bastard curled up in Axton's lap. The commando sent him a look that was equal parts wary and angry, which was really the only thing keeping Lawrence from acting out his desires.

"You look about as pissed as I feel," Lilith told him. She was standing in the middle of the room with her arms folded across her chest, though truthfully her stance was radiating annoyance rather than the pure rage Lawrence himself was feeling.

"Oh, trust me. No one's as pissed off as I am about this...development," he growled, shooting another withering glance in the kid's direction. "Dibs on shooting him if you don't like what you hear."

"Can you fucking not?" Axton snapped, drawing the boy closer to his chest.

"How can you defend him?" Lawrence demanded icily. "How could any of you walk out of that swamp with that thing in tow and not think it was a bad idea to keep him alive?"

"Because he's not Jack!" Axton snarled, leaping to his feet. The kid gripped Axton as the commando stomped over to Lawrence to get in his face. "He's just a kid, for fuck's sake!"

"For now. What if he grows up to be exactly like that asshole?"

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure? What, are you going to raise him yourself?"

"Maybe!" the commando blurted, much to everyone's surprise as well as his own, if his wide, darting eyes were any indication. He reached a decision almost immediately, if his hardening gaze was any indication. "Maybe I will."

Lawrence glared at him. "Then you'll have to do it without me."

"I never asked you to help in the first place, asshole."

"Well, good!"

"Fine!"

"Enough," Lilith groused, rolling her eyes. "Axton, sit down, shut up and tell me what the fuck happened. Law's right, though: I better like what I hear or that kid's getting thrown off Sanctuary."

"Not if I get to him first," Lawrence muttered.

"Stop it, Lawrence!" Gaige yelled from her spot across the room. Lawrence looked at her for the first time and noticed the dark circles under her angry eyes. "Ax, just tell them the damn story."

Axton noticed the way she looked, too, and cleared his throat. "I'm skippin' all the stuff leadin' up to killin' our mark," he began through a heavy sigh. "When we finally got to him, the asshole tried to kill us by sendin' some weird, failed Handsome Jack clone after us. It was like this mish-mash between a bullymong, Handsome Jack, and a loader bot. Needless to say, we killed it, and we would've killed the dude too if he hadn't fallen down the stairs first - "

"Why won't you say his name?" Lawrence cut in, suspicious. "Who was your mark, Axton?"

"I can't pronounce it, all right?" Axton snapped, scowling. "Nana - Nama - somethin', I dunno!"

Maya rolled her eyes. "Professor Nakayama," she supplied.

"Nakayama?" Lawrence echoed, eyes growing wide. He was surprised that the scientist had been alive for so long; he would have sworn that Jack had him killed after he'd failed to deliver the Handsome Jack AI. Then again, maybe he had finished it during the time Lawrence had been out of his mind. The idea made Lawrence turn cold with worry. If there was a Handsome Jack AI out in the wild somewhere, there was still a chance that the world could be in danger depending on where that damned thing wound up.

"Yeah, that." Axton squinted at him. "You knew him?"

Lawrence nodded slowly as he leaned back against the door frame. "Athena and I told you about him, remember? The bastard who was obsessed with Handsome Jack. He was the one who was developing the AI that was supposed to be plugged into my brain.”

"Yeah, well, he's dead as shit now."

Lawrence hesitated. "The AI?"

"We didn't find anything," Axton informed him as he geared up for his story. "Just the kid and a _lot_ of failed experiments."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up that I posted a oneshot yesterday featuring that awful space hurps incident in the Veins of Helios that Athena mentioned a few times early on in Not Jack. If you're at all curious as to what the hell that's about or just wanna see more of Lawrence and Athena being bffs, I encourage you to take a look! :)

"Well, that was lame," Axton remarked as he stared down at the crumpled corpse of the man who had been behind the past two weeks of bullshit. He nudged him with the toe of his boot and frowned when there was no reaction. "I was lookin' forward to shootin' this asshole in the face."

"You and me both, amigo," Salvador remarked sadly from beside him. “Guess we should tell Hammerlock the deed is done.”

Maya already had her hand to her ear. "Hammerlock? We killed Nakayama," she told him.

"Excellent!" came the man’s reply over all of their ECHOs. "I'll have your reward for you when you return. Ah, but before you head back, I don't suppose you could do me - and the rest of Pandora - one last favor? I shall pay you additionally, of course."

"Name it."

"Just go through the S.S. Terminus and make sure there are no other, ah, experiments lying about that could pose as a potential threat."

Salvador let out an impatient grumble. "Can't we just blow spaceship sky high?" he asked, hefting his Torgue assault rifles up. "It would save time and look really, really cool."

"Explosions of blood and metal!" Krieg howled in agreement as he waved his ax around. Gaige let out a whoop in agreement.

"I suppose you could, if you truly don't want to take a few more minutes out of your day to shatter some test tubes and delete some data," Hammerlock said. "I'll pay you nonetheless."

Salvador, Gaige, Krieg and Zero looked ready to leave now that there wasn't anything left in the vicinity to kill, but the promise of more loot was too good to pass up, as was the case with most things.

"You guys start heading back," Maya suggested. "I can take care of this."

Axton shrugged. "I'll help." He'd gotten slammed pretty badly by the hybrid and didn't quite feel like making the long trek back yet. Besides, the prospect of another three-day ride all the way back to Sanctuary made his ass hurt. God, he needed a nice hot shower.

"Me too!" Gaige said suddenly. When Axton cast her a curious look, she merely grinned at him.

"Fine by me," Salvador said, waving at them over his shoulder as he and Krieg and Zero began to head out. "See you back at the car."

Axton turned back to the ship and gaze up at the staircase leading into the bowels of it. He had a sneaking suspicion that anything they found in there would be either life-threatening or make him nauseous. Probably both.  
  
Nevertheless, they began to make their way up the stairs and into the hallways of the ship. Axton tried to keep himself keenly aware of everything around him just in case something mutated and Jack-like tried to pull a sneak-attack, but Gaige was practically riding his ass, and eventually it got to be too much.

"Okay, you've been dancin' around like a kid on Mercenary Day mornin' since we started this damn mission," he snarked, squaring his shoulders. "What's your issue?"

She grinned up at him with all the innocence of a gun-toting highschool girl. "What, I can't hang out with my best organic buddy on the whole planet?"

"Not with that creepy-ass attitude. What gives?" He stopped walking and sent both women a sour look. "Are you gonna grill me for info about what I'm doin' with Law?"

Maya smirked. "We were not. But now that you've brought it up, what _are_ you doing with him?" she asked. "I mean, other than the obvious. Do you have any long term plans or...?"

"Long term as in, like...rooming together? 'Cos I mean, the dude basically lives with me as it is. Which is fine."

"Have you bottomed for him yet?" Gaige asked.

He whirled on her, appalled at her bluntness. Clearly she’d been hanging around him for far too long. "Jesus, Gaige!"

"What?" she asked, feigning that same fake-ass innocently. "Every other time I've walked in on you two, he's either had his lips around your dick or his legs around your hips. Doesn't seem fair is all."

Axton's face was beginning to hurt from the magnitude of his blush. "We switch things up, yeah," he gritted out angrily. "You just haven't walked in on one of those times, thank fuck. Not that it's any of your goddamned business to begin with! Lay off, ladies, shit."

"Don't be mad!" Gaige cooed, punching him lightly on the arm. "We're just concerned is all.”

“Concerned for me or Lawrence?”

“Both. But Law’s...he’s been through a lot,” Gaige pointed out, frowning a little.

Axton sobered up slightly. "I know that," he growled. "He's strong. And we all know he’s well beyond the point of doin’ shit he doesn’t wanna do.”

Both women hummed in agreement, and for a few minutes, the conversation dropped.

They came upon a room that immediately gave off a creepy air the second they laid eyes on the half-busted door. Like the rest of the ship, the room lacked power, though if he squinted into the veil of darkness, Axton could see a dim light seeping from deep within the bowels of the chamber.

Making the silent decision to investigate, the trio ducked under the door and stepped into the room, treading carefully for fear of traps. Axton flicked on the tiny tactical light he had on his vest, which little to expose the room's contents. Gaige summoned Deathtrap to further illuminate their surroundings, but it still didn't help much. What they could see looked like typical Hyperion-grade tech: terminals, consoles and monitors, though as they made their way deeper into the room, his light landed on the reflective surfaces of test tubes.

"A laboratory?" Maya suggested, poking at one of the dead consoles. Her voice was calm and level, but still echoed loudly in the seemingly dead room, making all four of them cringe.

"Looks like it," Axton agreed in a whisper. He dragged a finger across a nearby table and brought it to the light. "No dust. This place was in use recently."

"This terminal's still warm," Maya pointed out. "Methinks Professor Nakayama cut the power to this place when he heard we were coming for him."

"Literally," Gaige said suddenly, pointing at the wall by the door. They followed Deathtrap's light and saw that a panel had been torn clean off the wall, exposing a handful of important-looking wires that had been cut rather hastily. "There's no fixing that kind of mess. We're going in half-blind, folks."

"Great," Axton said through a sigh. "So much for this being easy. What are we even looking for again?"

"More clones," Maya answered, cursing lightly as she stumbled over something in the dark. "If Nakayama shut this place down in a hurry, I'm willing to go out on a limb and assume he had something to hide."

"A logical assumption," Axton agreed. "Well, let's find 'em, kill 'em, and then head home. I'm dyin' to get some real food in my mouth."

"Among other things," Gaige teased, sneering.

"Shut up."

They moved further into the room, past the terminals towards what looked like rows and rows of test tubes of all shapes and sizes. Some still had plants and other botanical-like things growing in them, though a lot of the tube glass had been smashed, leaving the specimens high and dry and mostly dead. Other tubes contained...lumps...and other questionable substances that left Axton swallowing hard and his brain reeling with unpleasant thoughts as to just what the hell these things could have been. The five-year-old part of his brain urged him to poke at one of the fleshy things sitting among the broken glass of its test tube, but the semi-sane portion of his brain made him move to the next row, these all thankfully empty.

"I saw something like this in an old movie once," Gaige whispered from beside him. She was half-cowering behind his arm while Deathtrap released troubled chirps from behind her. They were a congo line of disturbed individuals. "Except instead of dudes trying to make people or plants or whatever, they made these big, scary things called dinosaurs."

"Yeah?" Axton squeaked. He hurried to clear his throat. "How'd that turn out?"

"They got eaten by the dinosaurs."

"Ah." Axton swallowed hard as they passed a large, broken test tube. His boots crunched on the glass littering the floor. "Let's uh, hope there're no dinosaurs fused with Handsome Jack's DNA running around in here."

" _That_ would be scary," Gaige muttered.

"Uh, guys?" came Maya's shaky voice from the next row over. When Axton glanced up in the direction of her voice, he noticed that one of the tubes was glowing a faint yellow-green. "You need to see this."

They hurried over to her, side-stepping piles of glass and other gross-looking things. She was standing in front of one of the many test tubes, though unlike the others, this one appeared to be fully functional, probably powered by a generator or a supply of backup power. Heavy tubes and wires ran from the top of the machine, a few of them occasionally jiggling with power or whatever was being pumped in and out of the tube. The tube itself was aglow with internal lights as well as the gel it was filled with.

Not only was in functional, it was also in use, Axton realized as he grew closer.

There was a person - no, a _child_ \- floating in the tube, unconscious but definitely still alive. Wires and nodes ran from his body and into the ceiling of the tube, alternating between monitoring his vitals and keeping him alive. He was half-curled in a fetal position, which exposed the mangled remnants of his leg; it looked like it had just never formed below his knee, leaving a lumpy stub. A mask sat over his nose and mouth, feeding oxygen into his lungs. Although it covered a good percentage of the small child's face, it was still glaringly clear that he was a clone of Handsome Jack.

"Holy fuck," Axton hissed through gritted teeth.

"Should we kill him?" Gaige asked quietly, nervously. "Hammerlock did say - "

"We should kill him," Maya said. Her eyes were huge and still plastered to the clone before them. "We should kill him before someone else does. Or worse."

Axton silently agreed and raised his pistol to do the deed, hoping that the gel wouldn't stop the bullet in its tracks. He'd never killed a kid before - at least knowingly - but he had to shove those thoughts out of his mind. This wasn't just a kid. This was a clone of Handsome Jack. It needed to die.

The gel didn't stop the bullet, but that was only because the glass surrounding it did. The bullet ricocheted off the surface and was sent flying straight up into the ceiling where it shorted out one of the many motors keeping the kid alive. The ensuing mini-explosion took out a few of the other machines and rained pieces of burning wires and chunks of metal down on them. Deathtrap flung himself over them, shielding them from much of the blast, and stayed put until the worst had bounced off his durable frame.

"Thanks, DT," Gaige whispered, patting him on the eye-face as he pulled away.

Axton righted himself and dusted his hands off on his pants. "Shit," he cursed, frowning up at the sparking ceiling. He turned his attention back to the clone, wondering if the explosions had knocked anything vital offline for him.

He didn't have to wonder for long. A small stream of bubbles burst forth from the clone's mask just as a light started blinking rapidly on the small console attached to the tube. A moment later the kid's whole body jerked, sending his limbs smacking into the glass. His mismatched eyes flew open, startling the other room's occupants into taking a step back. This dude might have looked like a kid, but Axton wasn't about to take any chances. Little bastard could mutate into a giant thresher for all he knew.

But the kid didn't. He blinked wildly in their general direction, but something told Axton that the kid couldn't actually see anything beyond the ooze he was floating in. He fumbled blindly for something, anything, while his oxygen mask gave another burst of bubbles that escaped to the top of the tank. Another burst followed, then another, each one smaller than the one before it.

"He's going to drown," Maya blurted, sounding panicked.

"That - that's a good thing, right?" Gaige almost squealed while Deathtrap screeched behind her. "He's gotta die, right? He's...he's Handsome Jack."

But she didn't sound so sure anymore. Axton wordlessly echoed that feeling as he watched, mute, as the kid began to flounder as best as his sleep-laden limbs would allow. Tiny hands pressed against the glass, like he would somehow be able to push the panel open and save himself. A huge burst of bubbles jerked skywards, like the kid had let out a panicked scream when he realized what was happening to him.

"Shit," Axton hissed. He went over to the control panel next to the tube and slammed his fist down on the glaringly red button, hoping that his bullet hadn't managed to fuck up the wiring for this certain system along with everything else.

It hadn't. A second later the sound of hissing filled the room as the front of the tube began to slide open, slowly spilling its contents.

Thankfully the girls didn't protest his actions; if anything, they let out a subtle sigh of relief as the tube began to spill the gel all over the floor. Axton was glad they were all in agreement that this kid should die quickly with a bullet in his brain and not lungs full of watery gel.

There came an awful slurping sound as the tube abruptly ejected the clone, sending him to the floor in a sad little pile of torn wires and electronic nodes. He was shaking fiercely, no doubt from his near-death experience as well as the freezing cold air of the lab. Tiny, ragged coughs shook his body even more.

Slowly Axton made his way over to him and pointed his pistol at his head just as the kid used his trembling arms to push himself upright into a sitting position. His wet head bumped against the barrel of Axton's gun. Axton expected a fight, maybe some frightened backpedaling, but as the kid picked his head up, Axton could see that his eyes were still closed, probably burning from a combination of the air and light from their flashlights.

The kid bumped the side of his face into the gun, then farther up until he found Axton's hand and nuzzled his cheek into it, no doubt in an attempt to leech off his warmth.

Axton recoiled, startled and weirded out, which caused the kid to reach out for his heat like an infant asking to be picked up. When he grasped only empty air, he lost his balance and fell flat on his face, which only made him shudder harder and curl back into his protective ball in defeat.

"Aw," Gaige cooed sadly, then quickly cleared her throat and averted her eyes from the questioning stares of her teammates. "What? He's kinda cute. Like a blind, deaf puppy."

"This dude's the asshole who almost destroyed Pandora," Axton reminded her tersely. "He should die."

Maya hummed, also unsure now. "Technically, he's just a child that _looks_ like the man we killed. There's no definitive proof that he thinks and acts like the guy." Her eyes darted to the kid in question, who was still lying on the ground in a pathetic puddle softly crying to himself. "Unless he's a very good actor, I don't think he deserves to die."

Axton stared at them. "You serious?"

Gaige just shrugged, looking entirely uncomfortable with everything, while Maya fixed him with one of her usual stares that indicated that yes, she was serious. Axton held that gaze for a moment, mentally weighing the pros and cons of doing such a thing, until he was vibrating so hard that his teeth were chattering.

"Fuckin' god dammit," he gritted out, thrusting his gun back into its holster. He knelt down next to the kid, urged him to sit up, and took him by the sides of his face in one fluid, angry motion. He smoothed his thumbs across the kid's eyes, clearing the gunk out of them so he could finally see properly.

Two different colored orbs slowly opened to greet him. The kid blinked rapidly, still trying to adjust to the change in lighting, but soon enough he was staring wide-eyed up at his savior.

"Well?" Axton asked gruffly as he released his hold on him. "No thank you?"

The kid gaped at him for a long, awkward moment, like he was staring at the face of god or something equally gobsmacking. He brought a shaking hand up to touch Axton's lower lip, much to his confusion, and proceeded to stick his gross, gel-covered fingers into his mouth, squinting into the abyss like he was searching for something vital between Axton's teeth.

"Can you not?" he tried to say, though the kid's fingers garbled his words. Behind him, the ladies let out small, somewhat nervous giggles.

Axton snagged the kid by his wrist and spat a wad of gel-tinted saliva onto the floor next to them. "This shit better not be toxic. Gross, dude, don't touch that!" he snapped as the kid started to reach for the puddle of spit.

"I don't think he's ever seen another human before," Maya mused.

"I don't think he's seen another _anything_ before," Gaige said as she knelt down next to Axton. "Hey, dude! Happy birthday!"

The boy jerked, startled, but was distracted soon enough by Gaige's pigtails and reached out to touch one. Despite the fact she clearly did not want his dirty fingers near her hair, she allowed him to paw at the cluster. His eyes grew wider and wider, and soon enough his lips were peeling back in a delighted grin, exposing a cute little gap between his front teeth. He beamed up at the others.

Maya made a strangled noise. "Handsome Jack was never this adorable," she concluded. "Even as a child."

Deathtrap hovered up behind Gaige and let out a coo in greeting. The kid gaped up at the machine, slack-jawed and looking mildly horrified, but all tension left him when Deathtrap offered him his less-lethal claw to investigate. He did so with all the excitement of a child playing with a new and wonderful thing.

"Guys, I think we just became parents," Gaige breathed in mock astonishment. "My dad's gonna kill me for havin' a kid out of wedlock."

"Shut up," Axton groused, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet. "It's not like we can take him with us."

"So we're leaving him here in this dark, freezing lab, then?" Maya asked, putting her hands on her hips.

Axton glanced around at the place and immediately felt stupid. What else could they do, though? Lawrence would hit the roof if they brought this kid back with them, never mind Lilith or the others. The thought made his stomach clench.

"Well, what would you suggest?" he asked the siren coldly.

Maya looked back at the kid. He had lost all interest in Deathtrap and had moved to lean against Axton's leg, still seeking out warmth to combat the cold air. "He's imprinted on you," she realized, smirking. "Like a baby skag."

"Like hell he has." Axton took several steps back and frowned when the kid made a distressed face and began to crawl after him. Axton retreated further, almost begging the kid not to follow, but the little bastard was adamant and eventually went as far as to try to stand up.

Axton lunged forward, stopping him right as he began to put weight on his stub. "No, no, don't! Okay, it's - I'm here, it's fine," he said gruffly, picking the little bastard up. The boy threw his arms around the commando's neck and nuzzled against him, shuddering for multiple reasons.

Gaige wiped a fake tear away. "How precious. I didn't know you had such a way with kids, Ax."

"I don’t," he grumbled, but tightened his grip around the boy nonetheless. His expression soured. "Can one of you lovely ladies look around for a towel or something so I don't have to keep touching his ass?"

Maya rolled her eyes and began to snoop around. Deathtrap followed her, lighting the way.

"So we take him back to Sanctuary," Axton said to Gaige. "How long do you think it'll take before someone snaps his neck?" And by someone, he meant Lawrence.

Gaige shrugged. "People have adjusted to Lawrence just fine," she pointed out. "They'll deal with a kid."

Axton made a noise of disbelief just as Maya returned with a long bit of fabric that was dusty and half moldy, but wrapped around the kid well enough to hide most of his body and his features. He snuggled into the shroud, content, but still determined to have Axton carry him. It irritated the commando, but it wasn't like he could walk by himself.

Gaige seemed to realize the same thing. She took a moment to assess his handicap before she let the makeshift cloak slip down over it. "Bet I can fix you up something quick to help you get around," she told him, offering up a smile. "Would you like that?"

The kid returned her smile with a shy one of his own before he buried his face into Axton's shoulder.

Axton sighed and sent the women and the robotic death machine a tired look. "Back to Sanctuary, then?"

"Back to Sanctuary," they agreed.

~

"And now we're here," Axton finished rather abruptly through a huge exhale. It was likely he was just tired of talking. "And I've got this growth on my hip. Simple as that."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Gaige muttered, flashing Sal and Zero a wry smile. "You guys tried to break the poor kid in half the second you saw his face. Convincing you guys to chill out took like, three hours."

Salvador shrugged. "Eh. Are you really surprised?"

"After everything, you can't blame us for being cautious of strangers," Zero agreed. "Especially if they have a tendency to look like Handsome Jack."

Lawrence had to give a curt nod of agreement. Though if he had been with them, he would have shot first and asked questions later.

"Does the kid have any issues?" Lilith asked, eyeing the boy's huddled form. "Other than his missing limb."

"He's completely mute," Maya answered. "I don't think it's from trauma or anything. Maybe his vocal chords just haven't developed correctly. Without testing it's going to be impossible to tell whether or not he has any other interior problems."

Lilith shook her head. "We can have Dr. Zed look him over later. It's clear he's harmless."

Lawrence ground his teeth together, but didn't argue. Axton’s story had given him a chance to chill out, to see past the red veil that had settled over his vision. The kid’s presence was still unwelcome, but the urge to strangle him had subsided for the time being.

He caught Axton’s gaze and frowned at the fire he saw still burning behind his gray-green eyes. Lawrence couldn’t really blame him - he had gone after the kid with a tomahawk, after all.

Abruptly he got to his feet and made for the door. Nobody attempted to stop him. He stumbled to a halt in the hallway when he realized that he had no place to lay his head now, not so long as he and Axton were fighting. He hadn't forgiven the commando for withholding this information from him. The stubborn part of Lawrence refused to acknowledge that he had been right not to; he doubted static-laden explanations over ECHO would have been enough to quell his rage. He probably would have been waiting to snipe the kid's head off his shoulders if he'd known he was coming.

A heavy sigh escaped him as he headed towards Moxxi's for a drink. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	37. Chapter 37

It was super late by the time Lawrence stumbled back to the hostel, broke but blessedly drunk. The alcohol in his system was to blame for his boldness; had he been sober, he would have been able to tell his feet to head towards HQ for a bed, not back here.

The door was unlocked, of course. Axton never fuckin' locked it unless he was reminded to, and they had been avoiding each other all day.

Said man was currently asleep on their - _his_ bed, one arm flung over his eyes and the other coiled around the kid’s back. The kid was curled tightly against him and was also seemingly asleep. They looked as if they'd both showered, if their damp heads and lack of gross clothing was any indication. Axton had on nothing but his boxers, as usual, and the kid was clad in one of the commando's shirts, which was so large it practically smothered him.

Lawrence continued to stare at the hideously domestic scene before him, unaware of time passing, until suddenly he realized Axton was awake and staring right back at him. Their eyes met. Then the commando was dislodging himself from the kid and sliding out of bed, nodding towards the outside as he reached for a t-shirt.

They met up on the catwalk outside Axton’s front door. Lawrence leaned against the railing, bottle in hand, as the commando came to stand beside him.

"You're drunk," Axton said.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out for me," Lawrence groused, rolling his eyes. “I had no idea.”

"And apparently still pissed off." Axton sighed, attitude instantly becoming aggravated and on edge. “Well, you should get over it fast, ‘cos the kid’s gonna be stickin’ around for a while.”

"You think I'm just mad about having him around?" Lawrence let out a barking laugh. That was only half of the problem. "Idiot! I'm pissed off at you for not trusting me enough to call ahead!"

Axton's expression soured even more. "I'm glad I didn't! You behaved like a goddamned wild animal this afternoon, Law! You tried to bury a blade in the kid’s face!"

"Maybe I wouldn't have if you'd warned me he was coming home with you."

Axton rolled his eyes. "You have no right to be shitty with me for keeping a secret from you - not when you didn't trust me with your Eridium addiction secret," he pointed out. "This whole trust thing goes both ways, bro."

"You can't possibly compare these two instances. Everything I've ever kept from you has been my burden to deal with."

"You don't have to deal with that shit alone, you prick!" Axton was almost yelling now. "You're _supposed_ to be able to trust us enough to help you! If you can't trust your friends, who can you trust?"

Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut. "I _do_ trust you guys," he hissed through clenched teeth. "But there are some things I'm going through that you just won't understand."

"You just think we won't because you never bring it up! You opened up to me about your body issues and that turned out okay! Why is anything else any different?"

" _Anyone_ can have body issues or anxiety or nightmares! Those are relatable things, so of course I'm open to speak to you people about them! But tell me, Ax, how the hell can you relate to being driven to murder a _child_ because he looks like the man who hurt you so badly once upon a time? You can't!"

"Jack fucked with us, too - "

Lawrence gritted his teeth. "Don't you _dare_ compare what he did to you guys with what he did to me!" he snarled so fiercely that Axton actually took a step backwards. He saw the commando’s throat work with a thick swallow; it was clear he was sufficiently daunted.

Placated slightly, Lawrence shook his head and turned back to his bottle. "This is why you won't understand. I can tell you my story a hundred thousand fucking times, but there's no way for me to accurately portray the awful impact that man had on me. So yes, I'm going to have my share of secrets. And yes, I'm going to keep some of them to myself because they’re mine to sort out. Deal with it."

Axton scowled. "Fine. Then I'll keep mine as well."

Lawrence's lips curled back in a cruel snarl. "Fine," he groused, moving away from the railing towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"To HQ to get some sleep."

Axton's scowl deepened. "You have a bed here," he snapped. "Are you seriously not going to stay here anymore 'cos of the kid?”

“Fuck you,” Lawrence slurred childishly, still moving towards the stairs. Axton still didn’t get it and Lawrence was sick of trying to make him see. He couldn't do it sober, couldn't do it drunk. What was the point?

“You’re nothin’ but a fuckin’ hypocrite, you know that, right?” Axton yelled after him. “The kid’s the same as you!”

That made Lawrence falter at the top of the steps. He turned to glower at the commando from over his shoulder. “He’s a clone,” he told him, enunciating the words. “I was someone before Jack turned me into a replica of himself. I'm someone now.”

“So why can’t the kid turn out to be like you? Wearin’ the face and body of some douchebag, but someone of his own makin’? What’s standin’ in the way of that?”

Lawrence rolled his eyes. “Genetics, you ass! He could be raised by a friggin’ saint and still turn out to be just like Jack!”

“You don’t _know_ that, Law!” Axton exclaimed. “If you don’t have any faith in that kid to grow up halfway decent, then have some goddamned faith in me to raise him that way.”

Lawrence let out a cruel cackle at the very idea of putting one iota of faith in Axton ever again. He had trusted him completely up until yesterday. He didn’t need to be sober or listen to the advice from one or more of the voices in his head to realize that he’d been a fool.

“Whatever,” he said, turning once more to leave. “Have fun raising that little monster. Hopefully he won’t slit your throat in your sleep.”

His harsh, mumbled words made Axton roll his eyes skyward. Lawrence practically heard the last tethers of his patience snap and dissolve. “ _Wow_ , Law. Y’know, I always thought I was bad with ankle biters, but here you are provin' to me that I could be worse. No wonder Angel betrayed you - "

Before he really realized what he was doing, Lawrence broke his mostly-empty bottle of booze on the side of Axton's head, sending the man stumbling into the wall of the hostel. There was a look of startled disbelief as he raised a hand to the side of his face where a large cut just under his eye was now oozing blood down his cheek.

Lawrence stood his ground and was thankful for the amount of alcohol in his system. Had he been sober, he would probably be in tears and spouting an apology.

 _He doesn't deserve one_ , Jack hissed, and for once, Lawrence was inclined to agree with the disembodied voice in his head.

Then again, if he'd been sober, he probably would have been ready for Axton's retaliating charge that sent him to the floor of the balcony. The broken bottle flew out of his hand as his head cracked against the concrete, briefly making him see stars.

"You are so fuckin' aggravating!" Axton snarled as he straddled him, keeping one hand flat on his chest. He slammed his head back again hard enough to make Lawrence's teeth clack together, but he didn't have time to focus on the burst of pain that filled his mouth because Axton had already claimed it in a vicious, biting kiss. Lawrence kissed back with just as much fervor, turning a portion of his rage into lust, then sunk his teeth into the commando's bottom lip, almost breaking the skin.

Axton pulled back with a snarl and seized him by the jaw, his thick fingers digging almost painfully into it as he tilted his head back to expose the vulnerable line of his neck. His lips found that skin and brutalized it, sucking bruises and leaving rings of shallow teeth marks around the scars that littered the pale flesh there.

"Stop it," Lawrence gritted out, only half meaning it. He was furious with this asshole; he didn't want to have sex with him now, dammit.

Lawrence grunted as Axton shoved him flat against the ground with his own body; he could feel the commando's excitement pressing against his thigh and it sent pangs of discomfort shooting up and down his spine. Lawrence brought his fist up to slam Axton's stupid fat head, but the commando saw it coming and snagged both of his wrists before he could land a blow. He pinned both of them above Lawrence's head with one hand and went back to grinding against him and peppering his jawline with kisses.

Dimly Lawrence was aware of the fact that he did not want this. A part of him - the tired, intoxicated part of him - was fine with letting the commando take whatever he wanted from him. The sane part of his brain - the side that included Timothy - knew that this would only end poorly for both Lawrence and Axton if he let the man continue to think he was on board with this.

 _Run_ , Timothy begged him, sounding beyond broken. _Please, please, we can't do this right now. This isn't fair to either of you. Run._

Lawrence's eyes shot wide open. "Stop it," he gasped at Axton, but the commando didn't cease his actions, deaf and blind to everything but the warm body he was grinding wildly against. "Stop it, stop it. Axton, please..."

Axton only slowed down when he went to kiss Lawrence and found him a crying mess. His eyes grew huge as he froze. "Law?" he rasped, expression growing more and more horrified. "Oh - shit, fuck - did I - "

With an angry sob, Lawrence grabbed the commando by the back of his head and brought his forehead down on the bridge of Axton's nose with a satisfying crunch. The commando rolled off him with a screech of pain and grabbed at his face, oblivious to Lawrence dashing down the stairs of the walkway.

~

Athena was just about to bury herself between Janey's thighs when there came a knock at their hostel door. The gladiator reared back and glared murderously at the offending object, hoping that if she glared hard enough the damn thing would disappear entirely. The one night she and Janey could just relax and someone had to spoil it already.

Janey heaved a sigh, but gave her girlfriend a look that plainly stated that she should check it out. While she slipped her shorts back up, Athena jumped off the bed and stomped towards the door, not giving a damn that she was only wearing a bra and some boxers.

"This better be important," she snarled as she opened the door. She had prepared her best impending-death face, but it slipped right off her when she saw Lawrence standing on the doorstep, shoulders hunched and tears and snot running down his face. "Lawrence? What the hell happened?"

The man mumbled something unintelligible as he dragged a shaking hand across his nose. Eventually he spat out a, "He's looking for me. Can I come in?"

"Who is?" Athena asked, immediately on guard as she practically yanked Lawrence into the room. The kid stumbled and would have fallen if Athena hadn't snagged him by the back of his shirt and pulled him upright. "Are you drunk?"

"Uh huh," Lawrence replied sadly.

Athena sighed and poked her head outside, scoping the area before she concluded that no one had seen Lawrence stumble through her doorway. She shut and bolted the door just in case.

Janey perked up with concern when she noticed Lawrence lurching towards her. "Cripes, what's happened now?" she asked, making room for the man to sit down. "Is he all right?"

"I don't know," Athena muttered, ushering Lawrence over to the bed. "He said someone was after him. Lawrence, can you sober up for just, like, two minutes to tell us what happened? Who's chasing you?"

Lawrence sank down onto the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. "Axton."

Athena exchanged a look with Janey, confused and a little on edge.

"Why?" Janey asked slowly. "I thought you two were bumpin' uglies these days."

"He tried, but I didn't wanna."

"What?" Athena spat, instantly disgusted and horrified. Janey felt the same, if her wide eyes and pinched lips were any indication. "Lawrence, did he force you to do anything?"

Lawrence blinked slowly up at her. "No," he answered after a pause. "I ran away and now I feel bad."

"Well, don't." Athena knew they'd get more out of him come morning, so she didn't press the subject, afraid that he might tell her something that she didn't want to hear. She didn't know much about Axton, but knew that Lawrence wouldn't put up with a dirtbag that forced him to do things.

Lawrence reached up to prod at the small bump on his forehead and winced. Athena brushed his hair off of his brow and observed the small wound, frowning.

"What happened to your forehead?" she asked.

"I broke his nose with my face."

"Good boy," Athena said, squeezing his shoulders. He whined at the contact and buried his face in her chest, shuddering. "I think you should try to get some rest now."

Lawrence nodded and turned to face the head of the bed. Janey was already there turning back the blankets on Athena's side for him. Despite the friendly smile Janey offered him, Lawrence's face still screwed up with a fresh round of tears.

"Oh...you two were gonna have sex, weren't you?" he asked, turning back to Athena. His lower lip began to wobble. "Oh, I ruined it. I'm sorry, Athena, I ruin everything..."

"Lawrence, it's fine," she shushed him firmly, urging him to join Janey. "Friends make time for each other when they're in need. That's what friends do."

"She's right," Janey said, hooking her finger in the back of his shirt to drag him backwards. Once his head hit the pillow, his eyes immediately began to droop.

Athena frowned as her ECHO device began to ring from where it sat on the bedside table, instantly jerking Lawrence back to consciousness. Janey picked it up and handed it to her, a worried frown on her brow. Athena didn’t need to read the name blinking across the screen to know who was calling.

She answered it anyway. "Yes?" she said, feigning innocence. "This is Athena - "

"Have you seen Lawrence?" came Axton's out-of-breath voice. He sounded frantic and a tad nasally from the broken nose Lawrence gave him. "We had a fight and - and now I can't find him. I fucked up, Athena, I fucked up so bad..."

Athena cast a glance over her shoulder at the man in question, who was still awake and listening in, if his somber expression was any indication. "I don't think you two should talk right now - "

"So he's with you? He's okay?" Axton let out a choked, semi-spastic laugh. "Oh - okay, that's fine. I just - he's drunk, and I was worried he might've fallen somewhere or somethin’. As long as he's safe."

Athena cocked a brow, surprised that he wasn't demanding to know where they were. "He's fine," she told him.

"Okay," Axton said. He sounded exhausted now as all the adrenaline was beginning to leave his system. "Can you just - just tell him that I'm sorry for...for not listenin’ to him when he told me to stop - "

"No!" Lawrence jerked up suddenly, wild-eyed as he scrambled for the ECHO device. Athena let him snatch it out of her hands just as his knees buckled, sending him to the floor with a heavy expulsion of air.

"Law?" Axton asked quietly.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Lawrence assured him wetly. Fat tears were dripping uncontrollably down his face. "Well, I mean, you're a stubborn asshole and I'm still super mad at you, but you didn't - you didn't force me to do anything, okay? Just...know that."

There was a long pause from Axton's end of the line, long enough that Lawrence held the device tighter and whimpered out the man's name.

"I'm here," Axton mumbled. "Can I see you?"

Lawrence shook his head. "No," he said, sniffing hard. "I don't think that's a good idea. M'still pretty drunk and I might try to headbutt you again."

"Okay." Axton didn't bother masking the emotion in his voice. He sounded as crestfallen as Lawrence looked. “Tomorrow, then?”

“No, Ax.”

The commando sucked in a sharp, wet breath of his own. "Lawrence, don't," he rasped.

Lawrence wordlessly handed the ECHO device back to Athena. She took it, numb, and fumbled for an excuse when Axton called for Lawrence again.

"He, uh, went to the bathroom," she said lamely. "I'm sorry, but I don't think he wants to speak to you anymore."

"So I gathered," Axton hissed. "Fine. Okay. Goodnight, Athena. Sorry to keep you up."

The commando ended the call before she could say anything. She turned back to Lawrence, who had curled in on himself over the course of the conversation and now lay in a pathetic little ball on the floor, silently crying.

"Oh, hon," Janey said sadly, sliding out of bed to crouch down next to the man. She laid a gentle hand on his shaking shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Lawrence. But these things happen."

Athena left her girlfriend to it, knowing that she'd find the right things to say. If Athena tried her hand in comforting the kid, she'd just make things worse. She ducked into the bathroom for a quick splash of water on her face and a change of clothes, and when she came back out, she wasn't at all surprised to find Lawrence snuggled up on the bed with Janey. The kid was out cold but still managed to look upset, even in his sleep.

Janey offered her a sheepish shrug and patted the space next to Lawrence. It was awkward for sure, trying to get to sleep that night with Lawrence between her and her girlfriend, but when the kid woke in the middle of the night in semi-drunken hysterics, she was glad she was there to calm him down and assure him that despite everything, he wasn’t alone in this.

~

Come morning, Lawrence almost sought Axton out to apologize. His hangover kept him curled up in Athena and Janey's bed long into the afternoon, giving him ample time to rethink that decision.

He finally settled on the fact that it was for the best. They clearly had issues with trust, and the fact that Axton still didn’t understand his predicament was something Lawrence was having trouble overlooking. It was selfish of Lawrence to want Axton to hand the kid off to someone else, he knew, but it wasn’t fair that Axton wasn’t taking his feelings into consideration, either. They were both so goddamned stubborn.

As he slowly made his way into the bathroom to freshen up, Lawrence found himself reviewing their relationship. It hadn’t been terrible by any means, but the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that outside of sex, they hadn’t done much with each other. Axton’s idea of a romantic date was popping bandit heads in the Dust. Lawrence would have been fine with a quiet evening spent in the workshop below the Crimson Raiders HQ, or even simply going out to eat at Moxxi’s, but he knew the commando would have found those things boring. They didn’t have much in common outside of their attraction for each other. As much as Lawrence had enjoyed their frequent romps in the sack, a solid relationship had to be built on more than just that.

There was no doubt the man cared for him and vice versa. Lawrence would take a bullet for him in a heartbeat, and Axton had already proven how much he cared.

But some things just weren’t meant to be. Or so he was determined to keep telling himself.

He made it through his first hour of work at Moxxi's without breaking down, but then around noon Maya appeared at the counter. She looked irritated, but he approached her anyway, hoping that she didn't hate him for breaking up with her friend.

"We need to talk," she said the second he got within earshot.

"Maya, I can't, I'm in the middle of - "

"Now."

Lawrence swallowed hard and followed the siren over to one of the deserted booths lining the wall. He slid into the seat across from her, unable to meet her gaze. He knew there was a chance all of Axton’s friends would hate him now, and he had to brace himself for that.

"I'm not here to lecture you or convince you to reconsider," Maya began primly. "Frankly, none of this is my business. I just want to know why? What went wrong? Help me understand, Lawrence, because right now I am beyond confused."

It took a moment to get his mouth to work. Putting the chaos in his mind into something he could say out loud was a lot harder than he thought it would be. "It just wasn't meant to be," he settled on.

"Really? _That's_ what you're giving me to work with?"

He glared at her. "Sometimes there is no good or satisfying answer," he snapped. "Sometimes things run their course and then veer off in different directions. That's just life."

Maya stared at him, unfazed by his attitude. "When things naturally run their course, it's an amicable splitting off," she pointed out. "Unless Axton was lying to me last night when he stumbled through my doorway last night asking me to heal his broken nose, I don't think it was a unanimous agreement between the two of you to split up."

Lawrence flinched. He knew Maya might have been exaggerating a little, but it didn't help him feel any better.

"I'm not saying you don't have the right to dump him," she continued quickly. "I just hope it was for a good reason, since he cares for you so deeply - "

"He didn't love me," he snapped on reflex.

Maya didn’t even blink. "Are you sure? Because the last time you spoke for him, you were wrong. That's a habit you should really, really try to break, Lawrence."

He flushed with shame. "I...look, we have nothing in common," he offered lamely. "We have trust issues, too. The kid is only a small part of a bigger problem that he's too stubborn to see from my point of view."

"You're both stubborn," Maya muttered, shaking her head. "I don't understand why you can't just talk this out."

"We tried last night. I broke his nose with my face."

"Stubborn," she hissed again, sinking lower into her seat. "Fine. Like I said, it’s none of my business what you two grown adults do with your lives. Just answer me this: what's wrong with loving him back?"

Lawrence felt his face and ears turning red. "Nothing."

"Surely there must be," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Everyone I've ever met has been desperate for love, especially in a world like this where it's so hard to come by. You've found it, yet you turn it away. Why?"

He scowled and buried his face in his hands, defeated. "Everyone I've ever loved," his voice broke on the word, but he kept going, "winds up dead or gone. My father's dead. Angel’s dead. I can never see my mother or my sisters again. The thought of losing Axton in some way...I can't. And it'll happen eventually because it always does. I _always_ wind up alone. So forgive me for trying so hard not to get attached to him when I know someday I'll have him ripped from me, too."

When he finally looked up at Maya, he found her staring at him with the saddest look he'd ever seen on her. "Oh, Lawrence," she said through a somber sigh. "You have more in common with him than you think."

He swallowed hard and resolutely didn't look at her as she slid out of the booth. She offered him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, a silent promise to be there for him regardless of what happened, before leaving him to stew in his messy, gloomy thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	38. Chapter 38

Lawrence had never broken up with anyone before. He had only ever officially dated two people in his life, not including Axton, and both people had been the ones to break it off with him, usually only a few days after they'd started dating. In other words, way before Lawrence had the chance to get attached to them.

They might not have had that much in common outside of their sex drives, but Lawrence could no longer deny that he'd come to know Axton during their time together. He knew Axton's favorite color and the way he liked his eggs cooked. He hated loud music but enjoyed playing the guitar and singing quietly when he thought no one was around to hear him. He got headaches if he didn't drink coffee before noon, but any caffeine after that made him sick. Lawrence knew his likes and dislikes, his quirks that made him irresistible and annoying as hell. Lawrence _knew_ him.

But this was fine. It was probably - _definitely_ for the best that they weren't together anymore, he kept telling himself as he methodically scrubbed at the dishes in the sink. There was a stain on one of the plates that just wasn't coming off no matter how hard he rubbed at it, and it was beginning to piss him off.

"Lawrence?"

He was fine. Axton would be fine. He hadn't seen him since the breakup, not even around town, but he knew the commando would get over him eventually. He’d bounce back. He had to.

"Lawrence!"

He snapped out of his frantic thoughts and whirled around to face Moxxi, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen with her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. "Y-yes?" he choked out. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

The woman narrowed her eyes at him. "I've been calling you for five minutes. You've got orders waiting to be delivered."

"Oh, shit," he blurted, eyes snapping to the little carousel thing Moxxi kept by the door on the counter. There were six tickets hanging there, neglected. "Right, s-sorry, I've just been - distracted - "

He snatched up the tickets and began to fumble for bottles and metal steins, but Moxxi reached out and stopped his frantic movement with a hand on his arm.

"How are you doing, sugar?" she asked softly. "And don't say fine. You've been scrubbing that one dish for half an hour now."

His mouth open and closed for a few seconds. He was tired and stressed out and paranoid that his friends secretly hated him for breaking up with their other friend - oh, and he was craving Eridium more than ever now that he didn’t have anyone to distract him, but: "I'm getting there," he answered nonetheless.

Moxxi didn't seem impressed by the response. "I've been through a lot of breakups myself," she told him. "They suck. Hands down. If you ever wanna talk about it, I'm willing to lend you an ear." She winked. "Or any other part of my anatomy, if it'll make you feel better."

The tips of Lawrence's ears turned red. "Thank you, Moxxi," he said through a sigh. "I appreciate it."

She nodded, quickly dropping the sensual teasing. "Deliver those orders, then drink this," she said, pulling a bottle of beer out of the refrigerator. "You're probably gonna need it."

He should have asked why before he headed out into the seating area, he realized, but it was too late to back out now. Not when the last of the orders went to the table Axton was currently sitting at.

Lawrence sucked in a breath through his nose. He couldn't avoid Axton forever, so he put his best foot forward and placed the stein filled to the brim with rakk ale before the commando.

"Enjoy," he said quietly, stepping back.

Axton grunted, distracted. He looked pretty intoxicated already and was slouched in his seat, glowering at the table in front of him.

This was something different, Lawrence realized, his brows furrowing with concern. "Everything all right?" he asked stupidly. Of course things weren't - not if Axton was drinking like this in the middle of the day.

The man sneered into his stein. "Got some great news for ya," he slurred right before he tilted the glass back and swallowed its contents in one go. He slammed the stein down onto the table and heaved a massive sigh. "The doc managed to get his hands on some new tech for scannin' bodies n' shit. We scanned the kid to see juss' how badly fucked he is. An' guess what?"

Lawrence frowned. "What?"

"He - he prob'ly won't live to see his next birthday," Axton said, giggling. "Too much stuff all twisted n' wrong inside him. Guess that makes two of us."

It was sad, but it wasn’t a surprise. There was a reason why cloning humans was hardly ever successful. "I'm sorry," Lawrence said softly.

"No you're not," Axton snapped, dribbling booze all down his front. He didn't notice. "You wanted this."

"I want you to be happy."

Axton jerked to his feet and stumbled out of the booth. Lawrence steadied him, but Axton wouldn't let him withdraw his hand. "If you want me to be happy, you'll come back to the hostel and fuck me stupid."

Lawrence frowned and jerked out of Axton’s grasp. "If that's all it takes to make you happy, I'm glad we broke up."

Axton sneered. "You're so selfish."

" _Me_?" Lawrence scoffed. "Says the guy who's at the bar drinking when you should be spending time with the boy you chose over me!" He recoiled at his own harsh words. "I...I didn't mean it like that. You should go spend time with him. Make the last year or so of his life the best he'll ever know."

Axton's anger bled out of him. "Yeah," he agreed, dragging a hand across his face. "Yeah. I will."

Lawrence fixed him a cold glass of water and made him drink it before he even attempted to leave the building.

"My offer still stands, y'know," Axton told him once he'd finished off the water. "Comin' back to my place. We don't even have to fuck."

Lawrence cracked a small, wistful smile. "Not today, Ax."

"But someday?"

"Maybe. Not today. Or tomorrow," he added hastily, noting the way Axton opened his mouth to speak. " _I'll_ call _you_."

Axton hummed in disappointment but didn't protest. He made his way down the street, swaying with each step, but he made it to the end of the block in one piece. He would be all right the rest of the short way.

Lawrence didn't realize he was still leaning against the threshold staring at the space Axton had once occupied until Moxxi sauntered up beside him.

"It's a real shame, you know," she said through a wistful sigh. "You two were like a beacon of hope for this town."

Lawrence slowly arched a brow at her. "What do you mean?"

The business woman shrugged gracefully, making her assets bounce. "If a vault hunter and one of Handsome Jack's body doubles could fall in love, then surely they too can find their special someone."

His face ignited a violent shade of red. "Whoa, what? We - we weren't in love," Lawrence practically spat. Why did everyone keep assuming that they had been in love? In lust, yes, very obviously, but love? _No_.

"Oh, honey," Moxxi said, "I hate to break the news to you, but the way you and Axton acted around one another? That's love. Take it from someone who's done the same song and dance routine for half a dozen men and women."

The revelation made Lawrence's blood boil. "With all due respect, ma'am," he began hotly, "mind your own damn business. And while you're at it, don't try to tell me what I'm feeling or not feeling."

Jack let out a cackle that sent shivers down Lawrence’s spine. _Pot-kettle, anyone?_

Lawrence just barely managed to suppress a flinch. “Look, we're not together anymore," he choked out, backpedaling, "so it doesn't matter if we loved each other or not. I-I have to get back to work."

Easier said than done. For the rest of his shift, Lawrence was in a garbage mood - to the point where he was slamming down orders and cursing people off when they got too obnoxious or noisy for his liking. When he attempted to break a bottle over some drunk asshole's head for calling him names, Moxxi yanked him off the floor, gave him a warning, and stuck him on dish duty for the rest of the day.

Shortly after that, Lawrence stepped out into the back alley behind the bar to toss the remnants of someone's half-eaten meal when he heard the all-too-familiar whistling noise of something big streaking across the sky. It dawned on him too late that something was about to slam into Sanctuary, but he did have enough time to flatten himself against the side of the building to brace himself.

Less than a second later, the entire floating city gave a rumble that Lawrence felt deep in his bones. The ground rippled and lurched beneath his feet while people on the streets cried out in fear. In the distance, Lawrence heard what sounded like a building collapsing, probably from the impact shockwaves. Most of the buildings in town weren't up to code by any means.

Lawrence held his breath as the rumbling ceased. Once he was sure that Sanctuary wasn't going to start plummeting out of the sky, he bolted for the end of the alleyway and hurled himself out onto the street.

He almost collided with Moxxi as she came tearing out of the bar's front door. "The hell was that?" she barked, breathless. The front of her outfit was stained with red; wine from the bar, he wagered. The patrons around them were in a similar disheveled state, having not heard the incoming attack over the music blasting from the speakers inside the bar.

"I don't know," he answered, equally strained for breath.

Someone next to them pointed down the road as a series of exclamations and curses erupted from the crowd. Lawrence followed their gaze and noted the dark column of smoke rising up from what he assumed was the point of impact for whatever had fallen out of the sky. As the crowd parted, Lawrence felt his mouth go dry at the sight of the hostel owner covered in layers of dirt and grime, some of it sticking to her in great clumps where her blood had soaked through.

"Gone, gone," she was wailing as she pointed down the street with a haggard finger. "It collapsed, it collapsed, it's all gone."

A dark pit settled in Lawrence's gut, leaving him winded and shaking. "Stay here," he told Moxxi, who didn't appear ready to protest as he took off towards the hostel.

He had taken the same route several times before coming to and from work when he and Axton had still been together. Yet in a matter of moments, the path had become foreign to him - a battlefield of broken glass and twisted metal that littered the streets and grew in size and quantity the farther down the street he got. It made it difficult to run, but he persisted, choking on smoke and dirt until the remnants of the hostel finally appeared in front of him, a great, twisted shadow against the curtain of dust that had fallen over the area like a shroud. The place had half-collapsed on itself, and the section that was still standing was currently on fire and belching flames and smoke into the sky like an angry kraggon.

"No," Lawrence realized he was murmuring over and over again as he stumbled towards the ruins. The closer he got, the more reality threatened to suck him into a pool of despair.

The part that had collapsed was where he and Axton had lived. The room they had shared their first real intimate moment in was gone, reduced to a huge pile of rubble that was unrecognizable to Lawrence's wide eyes.

He launched himself into the debris. He didn't know where to start. Everything looked the same now. All he knew was that Axton could be in there, could be hurt or dying. He had to find him.

Movement in his peripheral put him on edge. He never saw what actually hit the town. He had assumed it was just a moonshot or something just as lethal, but there was always a chance Helios had dropped a loader bot or worse onto Sanctuary.

But, as more of the dust in the air cleared, the specter revealed itself to be the kid, dazed and dirty and bleeding from a gash on his brow. Lawrence scrambled over to him, startling the poor guy, but he was too frenzied to care about the kid's well being at that moment.

"Where's Axton?" When the boy merely gaped at him through wide, unseeing eyes, Lawrence gripped him by the shoulders and yelled, "Where _is_ he?"

Fat tears began trickling down the kid's dirty cheeks as his mouth opened and closed. He was in shock, and yelling at him wasn't going to help Lawrence find Axton any faster.

"Stay here," he urged, forcing his tone to become soft. "I'm going to go look for him. Stay here."

But the kid wouldn't listen. As soon as Lawrence moved to start digging through the muck again, the kid was on his ass, clinging so closely that he nearly made it impossible to work. Lawrence was half a second away from grabbing the kid and hurling him off to the side with the rest of the debris when familiar voices began to float in from everywhere around him.

"Lawrence!" Gaige yelled from somewhere close. A second later she scrambled into view, cursing as she tripped over the rubble. “Holy shit, are - are you okay?”

"Axton's in here!" he rasped, voice hoarse and shrill. "I can't find him, I don't know if he's even alive! Please, please help me!"

They were moving before he had finished pleading with them. Lilith took the kid by the hand and pulled him away from the area. Krieg and Brick began yanking away the bigger slabs of debris, leaving Gaige, Salvador, and Mordecai to tear away the smaller chunks with their bare hands. Maya used her powers to move great clusters of rubble, but the entire structure gave a rumble in protest, causing her to back off and get down and dirty alongside her comrades.

As they searched, Lawrence could hear Lilith talking rapidly with one of her trusted Crimson Raiders, a nice man named Private Jessup. "Was it Hyperion?” she was asking. “Did they do this?"

"Witnesses saw the moonshot, ma'am," Jessup replied. "It's just strange that they would only fire once."

It _was_ strange, Lawrence thought. His movements slowed as this realization struck him, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Not when -

"Here!" Salvador exclaimed as he tossed a bent piece of metal off to the side. The Pandoran's face twisted with an unusual array of emotion. "Oh, amigo, you have seen better days."

Lawrence scrambled over to him, not caring that he nearly snapped his ankle in his mad dash. He fell to his knees next to Salvador and let out a mournful noise at the sight of Axton's twisted, battered body lying among the rocks and sheets of metal. The commando's pale, gray face stared back at him, his expression peaceful despite the cluster of scratches and cuts dotted across his face, but as Lawrence placed a shaking hand against his throat, he was relieved to note that he was merely unconsciousness. His hair and eyelashes were dusted in ash and soot like the rest of his body, but as they gently removed more of the debris, the grittiness gave way to sludge, turned so by the blood that had seeped from the large gash that tore across the commando's gut. Lawrence's heart caught in his chest when he noticed that the wound was puckered outwards as his organs tried to make a getaway.

"Maya," he choked out, unable to tear his gaze away from the horrific wound. "Maya! Can you heal him?"

The siren crouched down next to him, her expression grim. "Not with all that dirt and grime in there," she said, shaking her head. "We need to get him to Dr. Zed right now."

Gaige was instantly sprinting off shrieking for the doctor. Meanwhile, the rest of the debris was hurriedly pulled away, revealing more injuries on the commando. His one arm was clearly broken, as were a few of his fingers, but nothing was as terrible as the wound that exposed his guts to the open air.

A few more minutes of frantic digging finally exposed the rest of Axton, allowing him to be gently manhandled out of what could have been his grave. Lawrence kept the man's head level with the rest of his body as the others began to lift him up.

"Law?" the man slurred, struggling to open his eyes. Lawrence shushed him and quietly reassured him that he was there, that everything was going to be fine, but Axton didn't want to hear it, apparently too focused on spitting out apologies and three word statements that should never be said for the first time in front of others.

"No you don't. You're going to be fine," Lawrence kept saying, only a tad frantic himself as the commando was lifted out of his grasp and onto the cart that the good doctor had supplied them with.

Lawrence went to follow after them as they started wheeling him down the street, but Mordecai snagged him by his arm. He turned to find the ranger shaking his head. "Sorry, dude, but you really shouldn't see this," he said, almost sounding truly remorseful.

"I need to go," Lawrence's mouth said without his permission. It was like he was kicked to the back of his body yet again, but neither of the other residents in his head were in control this time. He was on autopilot. "I need to go, Mordecai, please..."

The sniper didn't relinquish his hold on his arm, even after the others disappeared with Axton.

~

It was several hours after the moonshot attack that Lawrence was finally allowed into Dr. Zed's clinic. All of the beds were full of injured people, most just suffering from broken bones or burns from the fire that had spread to a few other buildings before finally being extinguished.

He stumbled past them towards the back of the office. Axton had reserved the best (and probably the cleanest) seat in the house behind his own private, blood-splattered curtain, away from all the other groaning, whimpering patients.

Lawrence's hands trembled as he moved the curtain aside. The sight that greeted him was blessedly far from morbid: Axton was propped up on the cot, freshly washed, with fluids and blood being pumped into him through IVs. The man's face was still peaceful and relaxed like it had been before, but at least now he had some color in his cheeks that wasn't attributed to the coating of gray grime from the rubble he'd been yanked out of.

Lawrence heaved a massive, shaky sigh of relief and had to grip the side of the cot to keep from falling to his knees. "Thank god," he muttered.

"You can thank me instead," Dr. Zed said as he came around the other side of the curtain. The man looked exhausted behind his surgical mask, as he should be after having to deal with half a dozen wounded people by himself for nearly ten hours.

"Yes," Lawrence blurted, nodding gratefully at him. "Thank you. H-how is he?"

"Broken ribs and left humerus, lacerations across most of his body," Zed rambled, moving to pull the sheet off of the man's torso, "and one hell of a scar in the making."

Lawrence swallowed hard at the sight of Axton's bruised-mottled chest. Across his belly was an angry red line, almost half an inch thick, currently being held together by dozens of stitches and several transparent Anshin bio-patches that were working to heal the battered skin in record time. The only thing that gave Lawrence any real comfort was that Axton's chest was steadily rising and falling with each breath he took.

"He'll live, though?" he asked, turning back to the doctor.

Zed hesitated. “Well, my main concern isn't his flesh wounds. As serious as they look, the bio-patches’ll fix those up in no time. It’s his broken ribs - they’re dangerously close to puncturing his trachea. That happens, he’ll likely drown in his own blood before I can do anythin’ for him.”

Lawrence gripped at his own chest, horrified. "This is my fault," he whispered. "I sent him home ‘cos he was drunk."

"As any decent person would," Dr. Zed assured him as he pulled the blanket back up to Axton's shoulders. "That kind of talk'll drive a person mad, so you'd best stop while you're ahead. Hyperion did this, not you."

He wasn't so sure about that.

Dr. Zed got back to work tending to the other patients. Lawrence pulled up a chair and sat down as close to Axton as he could get with all the IVs in the way. Lawrence touched his hand, shuddering at how cold the man’s flesh felt against his own.

Lost in thought, he hadn't sensed Gaige and the kid's arrival until the kid was crawling into his lap and launching himself at Axton, desperate to see the man. Lawrence just barely managed to snag him around his middle and pull him back into his lap.

"No, no!" he chided, immediately irritated by the child's presence. "Axton's hurt. You can't touch him right now."

If the kid could make noise, he probably would have been whining as he squirmed in Lawrence's grip. His little hands continued to reach out for Axton until he finally realized that it was futile. He fell limp, shuddering.

Gaige came up next to Lawrence, her youthful face tight with concern as she gazed down at the commando. "He gonna make it?" she croaked.

Lawrence nodded. "The worst is actually his broken ribs," he said, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the fear and anxiety currently worming their way through his body. "The wound to his gut is already halfway healed."

"That's good." The tension began to seep out of her shoulders. "That’s good. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Her eyes slid over to the child perched in Lawrence’s lap. "I hate to ask, but can you watch him for a bit? Scooter and I are trying to get the shields back up, and the others are all helping dig through the rubble for more survivors."

"Sure," he said. He really, really didn't want to, not now, not ever, but he had to do something while everyone else was out doing legitimate work. "How likely is it that Hyperion's going to strike again?"

"Hard to say. It was so unexpected, y'know? Even with all this war talk. They haven't contacted us since Jack died, yet here they are attacking us. It's just weird that they would only send one blast, unless it was just a warning shot or something." She shrugged stiffly. "I dunno. Lilith doesn't want to take any chances."

"I don’t either," Lawrence muttered.

A beat passed, and he chanced another look at the mechromancer when he noticed that she hadn’t left yet. He was crestfallen to see that she was standing rigidly with her hands clenched into fists at her side, but her firm stance didn’t keep the tears from tumbling down her flushed cheeks.

Lawrence reached over and touched her metal hand. "Are you okay?"

The simple question broke the damn she had set up to keep her emotions at bay. She sniffed miserably and shook her head as another round of tears began to make their way down her cheeks. "He's my best friend," she whimpered. "I dunno what I'd do if he..."

"He'll be fine," Lawrence assured her. He wanted her to believe him, even if he didn't believe it himself. "Give him some credit. Dude's a stubborn prick. He'll probably wake up complaining about how hungover he is, not the fact that he was nearly eviscerated."

She choked on a small laugh. "Probably. Idiot. Thanks," she told him.

With a parting squeeze on his shoulder, Gaige left them to it. The kid continued to sit in his lap and stare at Axton's comatose form. Lawrence tightened his grip around the boy's middle, suddenly craving contact with anyone, even the literal clone of his most hated enemy. He let his chin come to rest on the boy's puffy hair, and together they sat in silence for a long time, just watching their favorite person in the world breathe in and out.

"I'm afraid of you," Lawrence admitted quietly.

It took the kid a second to realize that he was being spoken to. He wiggled around in Lawrence's lap until he could crane his head up to meet his gaze.

"You're too young to understand why,” Lawrence continued. “A part of me hopes you'll die before you learn about the man you're a part of, the man who hurt me so badly that I can't even stand the sight of his face on a _child_. It..." He sniffed and shook his head. "It's not fair. To you or me. I let that bastard get the best of me _again_ , and he's not even alive, and I'm just - I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He lowered his head and shuddered with silent sobs. God, he was so weak. He thought he'd gotten beyond feeling this level of disgust towards himself, but lo and behold.

The kid tugged on his sleeve, then proceeded to gently wipe away his tears with his hands. Lawrence's heart constricted at the careful tenderness the kid was able to display, even at such a young age. He was so foolish to think that just because he shared the tyrant's genes, he would turn out just like him.

"Can you forgive me for being such a dirtbag towards you?" he asked quietly.

The boy cracked a gap-toothed smile up at him and moved in for a hug. Lawrence tentatively returned it as the kid wrapped his little arms around his neck.

"Axton will be happy about this once he wakes up," he said, trying to sound confident. "Can't keep calling you kid, though. Unless you like that."

The boy huffed and shook his head.

Lawrence chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Maybe when he wakes up, we can work on finding something for you," he said.

The kid grinned, pleased, and turned back to Axton. A tiny sigh rattled his body.

"He'll be okay," Lawrence said. He wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or the kid of Axton's fate. Either way, his words fell flat, and they spent the night watching their friend sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, we're officially halfway through Not Jack! Thanks for sticking with it all this time, especially if you've been with me since the first chapter was posted. :) 
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To counter all of last week's angst, I uploaded another oneshot, this one much lighter and from Axton's POV. Give it a look if you wanna see what really caused Axton to start falling for Lawrence. :D

It was Athena who managed to snap Lawrence out of his funk almost a day later. Thankfully she, Pickle, and Janey had been at Scooter's garage during the attack and not trapped within the flaming confines of the hostel that had, at one point, been their home. Most of their belongings had been salvaged, which was probably the only reason why Athena had been in a halfway decent mood when she stuck her head through Dr. Zed’s door.

“You need to shower,” she told him bluntly, then ruffled his hair for emphasis.

Lawrence blinked blearily at the dust particles raining down on his nose. "Someone should be here," he said. His voice was as low and dull as his current mood. "He's going to be confused when he wakes up."

"I agree. But you need to get out of here for a while, Lawrence. No offense, but you look like you tried to fight a building and lost."

He felt like it, too. He wanted to keep protesting, but he knew Athena had a point. Sitting here staring at Axton wasn't going to make him heal any faster.

He looked at the kid in his lap, who was busy staring up at Athena like she was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. Lawrence could absolutely relate. “You gonna stay here and watch over Axton for a little while?” he asked him.

The kid nodded. As soon as Lawrence moved out of the chair, the kid stood up on it and reached over to take Axton’s limp hand between his tiny ones. The sight made Lawrence’s chest hurt.

With Axton being watched over, Lawrence made his way back to the Crimson Raiders HQ to shower and change out of his rank clothing. He hadn’t bathed since he’d yanked Axton out of the rubble of the hostel, so he was literally layered in grime and actually had to scrub parts of his skin to get all of the dust off. A quick glance in the mirror afterwards revealed that he still looked like shit, but at least he was relatively clean-looking shit now.

With that out of the way, he joined Athena inside one of the houses she and Janey had claimed near Marcus’ munition shop. It was a one-room place, way too small for two grown women to live together in, but it would do for the couple until they could get their own place somewhere else. 

"They were after me, weren't they?" he said, finally putting his thoughts into words. They had plagued him since the mortar attack and had festered in his mind the entire time he'd spent at Axton's side.

Athena, who was sitting on the floor by the door disassembling her Dahl assault rifle, paused to send him a leery look. "What makes you say that?"

He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed in the middle of the room and hugged his knees to his chest. "The moonshot mortar hit the hostel - right where I had been staying with Axton," he elaborated. "I guess they finally decided to come back for me. Hyperion never loses track of their toys, after all."

Athena's face scrunched up with disbelief. "I'm sure it was just a coincidence that it struck the hostel," she said. "Or maybe they just wanted to try to kill as many people as possible and figured that would be the most logical place to target. It's been half a year since you escaped slavery. Why would it take them that long to strike?"

"I don't..." His head shot up. "Unless they didn't know I was even alive until someone told them."

"Who would have told them?” She paused. “Do you think there's a traitor in Sanctuary?"

"No," he muttered, thinking back to the Hyperion convoy mission. He had gone against the others in order to keep the driver of the convoy alive because he had cooperated with them and didn't have to needlessly die. He hadn't seen the man's face through the tinted glass that made up the vehicle's windows, but that didn't mean the driver hadn't gotten a good glimpse of him. He might not have looked a whole lot like Handsome Jack these days, but if Hyperion had issued a warrant or something for his arrest, a lot of the workers could be keeping an eye out for him. 

"I'm an idiot," he sighed after recalling the event to Athena.

"We still don't know if you're the cause of this," Athena assured him. "That mission was months ago, right?"

"Yeah, but it could take that long for the driver to get word to someone higher up," Lawrence pointed out. He gripped his hair and let out a strangled, pained noise. "What if the Watcher was trying to get me to come with it to Elpis because it knew I was going to cause this? God, I've gotten so many people killed...!"

Athena knelt down next to him and yanked his arms away from his face. "This is not your fault," she snapped. "Not unless it's proven true. For now, we have to gear up for war. That's coming no matter what."

Lawrence nodded and scrubbed the back of his hand across his face. This wasn't the time for blubbering. He thought about Axton, thought about the kid sitting loyally at his side, thought about all of his friends here in Sanctuary. He couldn’t afford to be be scared anymore.

His shock of bravery came at an appropriate moment. A split second later, the room around them gave a small rumble courtesy of something impacting the city a few blocks away.

Athena and Lawrence exchanged a wide-eyed glance before they scrambled for the door. As soon as they stepped into the street outside, they knew immediately that something was wrong. People were dashing past them in a frantic rush; Crimson Raiders were among them, armed and barking orders at the civilians to get underground immediately.

"Moonshots," Lawrence blurted, gaze snapping up to the sky.

Sure enough, a dozen bright, burning orbs were breaking through the atmosphere with a handful more bringing up the rear. At least half of the shots were actually containers stacked with Loader Bots and Constructors, not including those already destroying the town. He could hear them breaking through the sound barrier as they descended through the atmosphere, the booms sounding like distant war drums. Until the shields were up, there was no way to fight them off.

"Shit," Athena hissed, readying her Aspis. "I need to find Janey and Pickle and make sure they're in cover. Can you - "

"I'll be fine," he told her, eyes still focused on the sky.

Athena didn't wait around to make sure of it. She darted into the fray and disappeared, leaving Lawrence standing alone on the side of the street while civilians continued to rush past him.

A Raider noticed him standing there and skidded to a halt. "Sir, you need to find shelter!" he exclaimed. "Head to the bunker beneath Moxxi's place!"

"Where are the other vault hunters?"

The question caught the soldier off guard. "At HQ," he blurted, his helmeted head tilting up and down as he sized Lawrence up. "Sir, you really ought to follow the others - "

"Don’t worry about me," Lawrence told him, flashing him a grateful smile. His gaze landed on the man's belt where he had a Jacobs revolver hanging from its holster. "Can I borrow that?

Baffled, the soldier wordlessly handed the weapon over. Lawrence checked it for ammo - fully loaded, but he only had eight shots to work with - before he flicked it shut and spun the barrel, all with a precision that left no doubt in the soldier's mind that he knew what he was doing.

Lawrence began sprinting towards HQ, darting down alleyways and backstreets to avoid the mass confusion on the bigger roads. He could distantly hear explosions and the stilted, mechanical voices belonging to the army of Loader Bots descending from the sky. He would have to move fast if he wanted to avoid them and get to HQ where he could stock up on some legit weapons.

For now, though, he would have to make due with his two friends. Stumbling to a brief halt, Lawrence summoned his doubles with a shaking tap of his finger. They flickered to life on either side of him; Red was indifferent, as usual, and Blue wore his typical grin, but it slipped off his transparent face when he noted the severity of Lawrence's expression.

"We're at war with Hyperion," he explained quickly. "Slaughter the Loader Bots, Constructors - everything posing as a threat to Sanctuary. Protect these people no matter what. Do you understand?"

His doubles gave an affirmative and briefly flickered away. When they reappeared a split second later on either side of him, they no longer wore their newly acquired emotional (or at least semi-emotional) expressions - they were the digital copies that had dutifully followed him around Elpis, mimicking Jack and destroying anything in his path. Something twisted in Lawrence’s gut as he observed them, but he didn’t focus on it for long. He couldn’t afford to.

He turned them off to save their energy, then took off for the center of town, hoping he wasn’t too late to join in the fray.

He wasn’t, he quickly realized as he literally stumbled into the battle that was taking place in the town circle. The area was littered with broken Loader Bot shrapnel and pieces of concrete and metal from neighboring buildings that had gotten caught in the firefight. From the looks of things, several of the Loader Bot transports had landed relatively close to the Crimson Raiders HQ. Now it was an active battleground - vault hunters versus Hyperion.

Lilith stood out the most among the carnage, considering the fact that she was aflame - literally - and blasting Hyperion soldiers left and right with orange-tinted blasts of energy. A sniper bullet took out a Loader Bot that had gotten too close to her, revealing Mordecai traversing Sanctuary's rooftops. Brick was neck-deep into the fray, roaring with the kind of rage only a berserker could sport, and Salvador was right beside him unleashing his own brand of gunzerker fury as he unloaded round after round into the nearest Constructor. The occasional burst of phaselock energy told him that Maya was somewhere among the fighting, and unless Hyperion had started employing psychos to screech about meat popsicles and hurl buzz-axes at their own people, Krieg was with her. Even Gaige, who was crouched around the huge piece of tech that more or less kept Sanctuary running, occasionally fired off a few rounds at the nearest threat before getting back to work.

A part of Lawrence expected to see Axton's stubborn ass fighting alongside his friends despite being ordered to stay in bed. Thankfully there was no sign of him or his turret among the battle - a fact that made Lawrence relax slightly.

He was on edge again immediately at the sound of crunching metal coming from behind him. He turned just in time to see the carcass of a Loader Bot collapse in on itself courtesy of one mysterious assassin and their glowing blue blade.

"Good evening, Lawrence," Zero intoned, sounding like it was just another average day on the job for the dude. They didn't stick around to chit-chat; their form flickered and vanished, leaving Lawrence staring at thin air.

"Thanks," he said anyway.

He took maybe ten steps forward, intending on joining his friends in defending the town, when a change in air pressure made him jerk to the side just in time. A shipping container packed with Loader Bots slammed into the ground maybe three feet from where Lawrence had just been, denting the pavement and tearing it up as it slid to a stop close to the deserted newsstand. The end burst open, unleashing a dozen brand new robots into the fight.

Lawrence clicked his tongue as his grip around his revolver tightened. Mindful of his limited ammo, he called his doubles and watched as they flickered into existence on either side of him, rigid and ready for battle. 

"Go get 'em, boys!" he ordered.

Red and Blue rushed forward with an intensity that made Lawrence proud. Before they had stayed idly by his side occasionally hurling fireballs and handfuls of electricity, but Gaige's upgrades had done wonders for them, giving them the freedom to actually use their legs, even if they still couldn't stray too far from the watch powering them.

Red hurled a massive fireball into the air near the cluster of Loaders; it exploded into smaller orbs that ignited the robots upon impact. Blue followed up with a volley of shock blasts that helped finish three of the six robots off.

One of the other Loaders lifted its gun at Lawrence, but salvation came in the form of one angry bloodwing before it could get a shot off. Talon screeched and clawed at the robot's eye, making the thing freeze and utter out pathetic little pleas and orders not to do that.

Lawrence moved then, lining up his shot as all of the training Axton had given him abruptly surged back into him. His body rolled on instinct, recalling how hard it had been for him to hit that itty bitty target from miles away. This? This was nothing, he thought as he pulled the trigger.

The shot nailed the Loader Bot in its glowing red eye, and by some sort of divine luck, the bullet managed to hit something within the robot's innards that took it offline immediately. It fell backwards into one of its companions, trapping it underneath its locked-up chassis. Red stomped on it, ending its pathetic attempts to right itself.

"Thanks!" Lawrence called to Talon as she darted around his head once, then back up to the rooftop where Mordecai was perched. The sniper gave him a nod, which Lawrence returned with a quick salute of gratitude.

"Lawrence!" Gaige yelled from behind him, her voice nearly lost over the sound of distant explosions. "Get your bony ass over here!"

He sent his doubles away for the time being as he hustled over to where she was by the monolith at the center of town. A handful of the others moved in too as the fighting came to a brief lull.

"Why aren't the shields up yet?" Lilith barked as her wings flicked out of sight.

"There's not enough power in the fuel cells!" Gaige snapped. "We never got a replacement shipment even though I told you guys weeks ago we were running on fumes!"

"Can they be recharged?" Maya cut in, scrubbing a hand across her cheek to catch the sluggish rivulets of blood trickling from a small gash. "If Lilith uses her powers to jump-start it..."

"These are the same ones she overcharged last time. They’re not designed to take that kinda surge once, let alone twice!"

"Is it worth a shot?" Lilith demanded.

Gaige shook her head wildly, sending her pigtails snapping back and forth. "Hell _no_ it's not! The last bit of juice is the only thing keeping this city afloat. If you overload them and they explode, we'll plummet out of the friggin' sky!"

Lawrence swallowed hard as images of his nightmares flickered across his brain. He prayed to whatever higher being out there that they hadn't been premonitions. Dreams aren't real, he thought desperately. Axton getting hurt, Hyperion attacking - it was all just coincidence.

Lilith hissed out a curse and looked skyward. Balls of light filled the stratosphere, and more were on the way. "Keep fighting," she ordered.

"Gonna run outta ammo eventually," Salvador pointed out. The ammo belts strapped across his chest and shoulders were half empty. "Then what?"

"We keep fighting!" the siren yelled, whirling on all of them. Her wings flicked with rage as she turned to face her comrades. "We'll beat the shit out of Hyperion with our _fists_ if we have to!"

"I like that plan," Brick said, grinning as he slammed his fists together with a sickening crunch.

Just as Lawrence was opening his mouth to comment that using fists on steel wasn't going to work for anyone other than Brick, the entire city gave a lurch that sent everyone - Loader Bots and fleshy mortals alike - tumbling onto the ground. The groan that the floating structure let out was haunting; it burrowed deep within Lawrence's bones and clung there, making him shiver. For one heart-stopping second, he was sure the city was going to split apart. It stabilized shortly after the thought made him numb with fear, but the danger was still very real and present.

" _Fuck_!" came Mordecai's agonized scream over the ruckus. They found the sniper lying on his side in the street, his one arm snapped from where he'd apparently landed on it after losing his footing on the roof.

Maya reached out with the intention of healing the wound, but Mordecai shoved her hands away. "Save your strength for tearing these robot assholes a new one," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Wh-what the fuck just happened? Why did the city shake like that?"

"My guess? It can't handle this much added weight," Gaige replied. "Not on such limited power. We've gotta lighten the load or the whole damn thing could go down."

At nearly that same moment, Moxxi's voice crackled in their earpieces. "We could use some help on this side of town," she yelled above the crackle of gunfire and the wub-wub-wubing coming from the blaring music in her bar. "There's a Constructor out front that just won't quit, and I think it just called for some backup - "

A rather loud explosion made everyone's earpiece shriek with static, but it was the deafening silence that followed up that made everyone start to panic.

"Shit." Lilith fixed her fiery gaze on the others. "Brick, Sal, Zero - head to Moxxi's bar and defend the place until I say otherwise. Mordecai - "

"I can go, too," the sniper insisted as he shakily rose to his feet with his revolver gripped in his working arm.

The siren didn't argue with him as she began to head towards another section of town where her Crimson Raiders were attempting to keep the invasion at bay. "Defend this part of the city," she ordered the others, who immediately began to disperse in different directions. "Get the shields up by any means necessary, Gaige!"

"Sure, let me just pull a spare fuel cell out of my ass!" Gaige snarled at the woman's retreating form.

"Can you build one?" Lawrence suggested lamely. His knowledge on this shit was limited, but even he knew that was nigh impossible, especially with mortars raining down on them and robots filling the streets.

"If I had all the parts, which I don't, it would still take me days to perfect it!" Gaige replied, confirming his suspicions. "I'm good, but I'm not _that_ good!"

Her tone was borderline hysterical now. He drew her close and squeezed her shoulders, hissing a quick, "Just breathe. We'll figure something else out."

Gaige blinked back tears. "There are no other options," she rasped. "This was Plan B."

"Then we need to come up with a Plan C," Lawrence said.

"I'm open for suggestions."

Lawrence didn’t have the chance to answer. A mortar slammed into the ground behind them, jerking them off their feet and dumping them in crumpled piles a good distance away from the impact zone. Chunks of metal and asphalt pelted Lawrence, forcing him to reflexively curl into a fetal position with his arms over his head.

He blacked out for maybe a minute or two, unable to gather the strength to open his eyes let alone get to his feet. When consciousness did decide to slap him upside the head, a wave of nausea forced him to roll onto his side. He choked on dust and spit a mouthful of blood onto the street beneath his quaking hands. His ears were ringing non-stop, making it difficult for him to get his bearings. It took him almost a full minute to finally rise to his feet without nearly toppling over.

"Gaige?" he rasped, blinking blearily through the new curtain of debris that now hung in the air around him. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of him.

Something in the distance exploded, filling his gut with a fresh round of panic-induced nausea. He fumbled for his revolver, but his hands met with empty air.

"Red," he gasped, stumbling through the field of debris. Something in his abdomen throbbed with discomfort, but he ignored it as he fumbled with his watch. "Blue."

His doubles flickered to his side, all no-nonsense and stiff with the stance of battle until they took notice of their boss's current condition. Blue's stoic mask was replaced with one of terror while Red could only cock his head to display his concern.

"Lacerations and bruises," he reported, sounding vaguely as worried as Blue looked. "Ruptured eardrum, bruised ribs, concussion in progress. Sir, you need medical attention."

"I'm fine," Lawrence gritted out, forcing himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness made him want to collapse, but he remained upright, knowing that if he went down, the likeliness of him ever getting back up again was slim to none. There was still an army lurking behind the layers of dust floating in the air. He had to keep moving.

"Pigtail girl of redness and brain bones!" Blue suddenly exclaimed, pointing in the opposite direction. Lawrence followed his finger and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach when he realized who he was talking about.

"Gaige," he wheezed, forcing himself to move forward. Blue disappeared and reappeared where Gaige was. Lawrence followed the dim light radiating off of his double, until finally the dust parted enough for him to catch a glimpse of him and his mechromancer friend.

She was lying in a crumpled heap next to one of the fuel cell intakes. Large pieces of asphalt dotted the ground around her. One of the larger chunks was splattered with fresh blood. As Lawrence grew closer, he noted that more blood was coming from the back of Gaige's head in a fairly strong trickle.

"Oh, god," he whimpered. He reached out to touch her, only to abort the motion halfway, afraid of hurting her more than she already was. "Gaige? Gaige, please, say something...!"

"Compound fracture of the skull," Red reported when Gaige failed to respond. "Damage to brain tissue unknown but likely severe. Blood loss is substantial and continuing to worsen - "

"Stop," Lawrence gritted out, rising to his feet again. "Stop, stop."

"Boss?" Blue called to him as he began to hobble away from them.

"Everything's going to be okay," Lawrence whispered, dragging a dirty hand across his face. He deactivated his doubles before they could protest.

He turned around, facing the empty, dusty space in front of him where the Pierce Station had once stood. "I know you're here!" he yelled as loudly as he could. "I know you're here watching all of this!"

No one answered him for a long, terrifying moment. But, sure enough, just when he thought his pleas had landed on deaf ears, he blinked and suddenly found himself standing in front of the Watcher. It said nothing, just stared down at him, waiting.

Lawrence gazed up at the creature. His knees were weak with fear, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest, but he didn't look away. It was too late for that now.

"I'll go," he rasped. "I’ll do whatever you want. Just let me help my friends first. Please."

The Watcher tilted its head slightly, contemplating the request. With each passing second, the closer Gaige got to death. The closer Sanctuary got to plummeting out of the sky. The closer his dreams got to becoming a reality.

" _Please_ ," he begged.

Another beat passed. Then the Watcher plunged the tips of its fingers past Lawrence's shirt, past his skin, past his muscles and bones into his very core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	40. Chapter 40

Axton was scrambling through the mucky backwater sludge on Tantalus again. His boots were full of water, his army regulation attire soaked clean through from the chest down. He was wet, he was miserable, he’d just watched Keyes and O’Malley get blasted to shit by a well-placed landmine, and he couldn't find his goddamned CO anywhere.

"Sarah!" he yelled.

Distant gunfire was the only reply Axton got. He couldn't see a goddamned thing through the thick, vine-smothered trees and foliage that blanketed this portion of the planet, but he kept moving forward, hoping to find the familiar faces of his squad - those that hadn't gotten blasted to shit yet, at any rate.

Through a gap, he eventually caught a glimpse of a shock of purple amongst the greens and browns - Sarah's hair. He bolted for it, sloshing as fast as he could through the swampy ground, but as he rounded a tree and called out her name, he found himself alone.

Suddenly he was trapped in a maddening cycle. He called for her again, eventually re-spotted her, only to lose her whenever he got within ten feet of her. It kept happening, over and over. No matter how close he got, Sarah was always just out of his reach.

He was pretty sure he had lost most of his gear a long time ago, yet he still felt weighed down and getting heavier with each passing second he was on the move for his wife. He realized belatedly that it was his goddamned necklace; Sarah's ring and dog tags had grown ten times in size and a thousand times in weight. He gripped the cord, trying to alleviate some of the pressure on his neck, but it did nothing to help. The necklace was making it impossible for him to keep moving forward.

Desperate now, he spun in a attempt to spot his wife through the thick foliage, but all he saw was greens and browns. The gunfire was getting closer and the sky had turned as black as ink, and he was pretty sure he was the only one of his squad not lying in shredded pieces somewhere in the stupid jungle.

Just as that thought occurred to him, something slammed into him so close that he was knocked off his feet and temporarily blinded. He raised his hand to his brow and squinted against the assault on his senses.

"Sarah?" he rasped, squinting up at the bright light hovering above him. Shit, was he dead? Should he move towards the light, or...

He tried, but all that did was sent bullets of pain up and down his chest. He snarled and choked on his own breath, momentarily panicking when he realized just how much it hurt to breathe. Tiny hands snatched up one of his, squeezing his fingers so hard he thought they might break. It grounded him enough to snap him out of his panic.

"Kid," he said, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the wild-haired boy huddled beside his bed. His tongue was practically dead weight in his mouth, no doubt courtesy of whatever was being pumped into his arm from the IV. He pulled it out, wincing at the pain it caused in both his chest and his limb. "Sounds like a goddamn war's happenin' outside."

His own words made him freeze. Almost at the same time, the building gave a groan as something heavy impacted the ground relatively close by. Gunfire quickly accompanied the rumble of impact, leaving no doubt in Axton's mind that the war he had been so adamantly trying not to think about for the past six months was finally upon them.

"Shit," he wheezed, gripping the sides of the bed. He braced himself for utter agony as he forced himself into a sitting position and wasn't disappointed. A strangled, animal-like noise escaped him as he swung his legs around to plant them on the floor, but he couldn't scrounge up enough energy to actually stand up.

In front of him, the kid did a worried little shuffle back and forth on his bare feet, his wide eyes pasted to Axton as the man struggled to get himself back under control.

"M' okay," he assured the kid, catching his worried stare. He tried to offer him a smile, but he was in too much pain. Damn, those drugs wore off fast.

"The hell you think yer doin'?" Dr. Zed snapped at him, suddenly appearing at his side. He looked pissed, even with most of his face hidden behind that damn surgical mask.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You need time to heal, boy! You've got broken ribs millimeters away from burstin' into your throat. You can't just - " Zed sighed exasperatedly. “Goddammit, Axton!

"My friends need me," Axton hissed, shuffling towards the front door. He spotted his gear folded neatly on a blood-stained counter top and fumbled through it until he found his turret. Every little movement caused bursting stabs of pain to riddle his chest, but he refused to let that slow him down. "Gimme a gun, Zed."

"I sell medical supplies, not weapons," Zed reminded him harshly. "Axton, if you go out there, you will die. You can't fight the way you are right now! Don't be stupid!"

Axton stopped shuffling long enough to glance down at himself. He was down to one arm, bruised to hell and back, and sporting a rather awesome looking scar across his belly. It matched Lawrence's, he found himself thinking dumbly.

He brought his eyes up to the door again, muttering the man's name under his breath. What if he was out there fighting? He had sworn off violence, sure, but he knew that the man would readily take up a weapon again if it meant defending people in need. Judging by the rumbles shaking the ground beneath his feet and the hail of bullets coming from outside, the town of Sanctuary was in some serious need of help.

"Look after the kid 'til I get back," he said.

While the kid looked horrified at the prospect of being left alone with the good doctor, Zed folded his arms across his broad chest, unamused and unmoved. "And what should I do with him when you inevitably die a terrible death? I sure as hell can't watch him."

Axton sneered at the doctor over his shoulder and started towards the door again. "Underestimate me all you like," he rasped in between short breaths, "but don't underestimate this lil' lady."

He didn't wait for Zed's reply. Axton opened the front door and hurled his turret as far out as he could, wincing at the agony it brought his torso. She unfurled in midair and was spitting bullets before she'd even touched down, giving him the time to dart across the street and take cover behind a dumpster. The amount of Loader Bots in the streets - both functioning or just piles of busted parts - was astounding.

"Thanks for saving some for me, guys," he said to his friends, wherever they were. Hopefully in one piece, he thought, lifting his eyes to the sky just in time to see a new volley of mortars incoming.

He braced himself as close to the wall as he could, but he was still showered with dust and small chunks of asphalt as the building across the street from Scooter's got nailed by one of the mortars.

"Fuckin' hell!" he gasped, almost afraid to let go of the side of the building.

As soon as his turret had finished chewing up the handful of Loader Bots, he scooped her up and hobbled out of the street, towards the center of town. Hopefully he wouldn’t run into anymore Bots until his baby was done recharging.

He stumbled into the main square, his good arm wrapped around his middle as his ribs continued to throb. He was confused to see that no one was around working on getting the shields up. The place was a battleground for sure - the Pierce Station building had collapsed completely, filling half the street with rubble. Where was everybody? There was no way they'd all been killed. No way.

He tried to call out for his friends, but the second he took a deep breath, he felt something awful happen in his chest. He nearly collapsed to his knees, startled more than anything. Breathing was suddenly ten times harder than it had been.

Great, he thought miserably as he began shuffling towards the busted pierce station remains. If he didn't get shot to shit by a Loader, he was going to suffocate.

Axton made it around the central core control panel before another volley of mortars and Loader Bots slammed into the town somewhere close, causing him to stumble to his knees and reflexively cover his head. God, he would kill for an assault rifle right now, he thought as the distant sound of gunfire erupted.

All thoughts of retaliation vanished when he picked his head up and came face to face with Gaige's crumpled body. She was covered in dust and surrounded by chunks of the pierce station building and lying in a substantial puddle of her own blood.

"Gaige?" he rasped, struggling to just spit out her name. He shuffled over to her as fast as he could. "Oh, god, no..."

He shoved the rubble away, barely feeling the agony it caused him, and gently touched the side of her face with a shaking hand. It took a moment, but eventually her eyes slid open, much to his relief.

"Dad?" she asked, voice scarcely more than a confused whisper. When she looked at him, her eyes remained unfocused. "What're you doin' here?"

Axton sucked in a breath through his teeth that didn't quite make it to his lungs. He pulled her into his arms, hardly feeling the jabs it sent through his chest, especially when he went to cradle her head and his fingers brushed up against torn flesh and hard, bloody protrusions. He drew his hand back and stared at the redness coating it.

"Daddy, s'dangerous, you gotta go home."

A sob threatened to rip apart Axton's chest worse than the broken ribs ever could. "Daddy's gonna take you home, okay, honey?" he said, words only slightly garbled by the blood bubbling past his lips.

"Okay," Gaige said softly, eyelids fluttering.

Axton slouched back against the monument wall, exhausted and dying and, for the first time in a long time, feeling completely defeated. Sanctuary was groaning and rumbling beneath him. Gaige was on her way out. His breaths were coming in short bursts; no matter how he sat, he couldn't seem to suck in enough. Surely shit couldn't get any worse, right?

That, of course, was when he saw it. There, looming in the dust, stood the Watcher, impassive as ever, but that's not what frightened Axton the most. Standing before the alien was Lawrence. He was hunched over, hands shaking at his side as his gaze remained downcast.

The fuckin' thing had its claws buried in Lawrence's chest.

"No," Axton rasped, struggling to move. Gaige's limp body and his own ailments made it impossible. "No! Law...!"

The Watcher withdrew its hand and took a step back. Lawrence folded in on himself, landing hard on his side in a curled up ball on the ground. His eyes were wild with shock and pain as his hands clawed at his chest and his legs thrashed uncontrollably. Axton watched, numb, and recalled how the other man had looked after they first rid him of that slave collar, how he'd thrashed and screamed himself hoarse in the cell they'd stuck him in.

Suddenly Lawrence froze mid-thrash. A terrible noise came from him then, like bone snapping, quickly followed by the most inhuman noise Axton had ever heard. It was screaming, it was animalistic roaring and the sound of a ship's engines before take-off. It was horrible and chilled Axton to the bone and would haunt his nightmares until the day he died, but not as much as the events to follow.

Lawrence's back arched clean off the ground as more awful snapping and crunching noises filled the dusty air. His limbs jerked as if some invisible force was brutally yanking them around. The sleeve on his one arm slipped up just enough for Axton to see his veins bulging grotesquely against his pale flesh.

Then it all stopped. Lawrence fell still, chest heaving, but otherwise quiet. Axton wanted nothing more than to crawl his way over to him, to pull him into his arms alongside Gaige so that they could all die together.

Before Axton could even think about trying to move again, Lawrence's eyes snapped wide open. They were glowing with Eridium - so bright that they were nearly white. In that same moment, the swirl that drifted up Lawrence's forehead into his hairline ignited with a vibrant surge of purple, as did his hands and forearms as the mineral wound its way through his veins. More and more of his body began to glow from the inside out as he rose to his feet without using his hands, levitated by an unseen force.

Axton could only stare. What he was seeing didn't make sense. None of this made any goddamn _sense_.

He continued to think such things even as Lawrence turned around to face him. He looked like some sort of god emitting holy light from every pore as he began to move forward. Nothing could touch him - not the dust particles in the air, which parted around him as he moved, or the ground, which bent and twisted out of his path as he drifted over to Axton's side.

"Law," he whimpered, unable to say anything more as his ex-lover knelt down beside him. A bubble of blood burst on his lips. He dimly realized how hard it was to breathe now, and that those awful wheezy noises he'd been hearing for the past few minutes hadn't been coming from Lawrence, but from his own shredded throat.

Lawrence tilted his glowing head - a motion that was too like the Watcher for Axton's liking - before he reached out and placed his hand flat on Axton's chest.

The commando tensed up, expecting pain, and that was what he got for a good three seconds while his ribs snapped back into place and his trachea knitted back together. Lawrence withdrew his hand, taking the pain with him. Axton collapsed, gasping in great lungfuls of air. Cognizance returned to him rather abruptly, but he was still unable to spit out anything intelligible as Lawrence turned to Gaige's limp, pale body.

With a great deal of tenderness, Lawrence took Gaige's head between his palms and kissed her brow. Axton wasn't even sure if the girl was alive at this point, but that didn't seem to matter. Color returned to her skin, and a second later her eyes were flying open as a heaving gasp escaped her.

"Fuckin’ fuck!" she yelled, grabbing the back of her head. Her hands came away blood-free, much to her and Axton's astonishment. "What - what the fuck even - _Lawrence_?"

Lawrence didn't give her a response either as he rose to his feet and turned away from them.

Axton, however, was all too eager to wrap the younger girl up in a desperate hug that made her wheeze with discomfort. As he pulled away, he choked out a wet laugh and a weak, "Language."

The smile she flashed was equal parts confused and relieved, but it slipped right off her face when she turned back to Lawrence, who now had his gaze skyward. "What's happening?" she asked, voice cracking with concern.

Axton's mirth faded as he followed her gaze. "He said yes."

Lawrence extended a hand, seized an incoming mortar shell out of mid air, and sent it spiraling backwards into its nearest neighbor - with his goddamned mind. As cool and utterly terrifying as that was, it wasn't going to help stem the flow of the dozens of impending mortar shells, Loader Bots, and Constructors. Lawrence seemed to realize this.

The city gave a rumble again, but not because it was about to split in half and spiral down to the ground in a flaming mess of twisted metal and carcasses. Axton swallowed hard as Lawrence began to glow an even more alarming shade of purple-white.

He and Gaige clung to each other and scooted back against the wall, not knowing what else to do as Lawrence's feet left the ground. Power surged through him, turned his entire body into a beacon of pure light that hurt to look at. As he ascended, Axton could hear the boom-boom-booms of the moonshot mortars and Loader Bot transports, but they were no longer rattling Sanctuary with their impacts. He risked a quick look skyward and saw flashes of purple. Lawrence had set up a shield, he realized, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. He was wrapping the entire city up in a ball of Eridium power.

Axton remembered what Sanctuary looked like the first time Lilith phased it to the Highlands. Purple and white swirls blossomed all around the city as it rose up out of the dirt, and despite not being in the city himself, Axton's hair had still stood on end while his ears popped and his stupid chevrons vibrated in his head. Now was no different.

There was a brief second where the air fell completely still, and then it was being sucked violently out of everything, including Axton's lungs. For a split second he panicked and slapped a hand over his chest, but air came back to him easily as he took a frightened breath. Beside him, Gaige reacted much the same.

He realized a second later that the shield around the city had vanished. The electricity in the air was gone, the only sound - other than his heart beating wildly in Axton's chest - was the wind blowing through the streets. No Loader Bots spitting orders, no Constructors dumping more Hyperion fodder into the fray. Just an eerie, whistling silence.

Axton's eyes made their way skyward. Though he had been stationed on planets for much of his military career, he knew what happened to transports and freighters that got blown to shit during space battles. There were no fiery explosions in space, just chunks of debris flying off and catching the light from whatever sun was in the system. The glittering specks hovering near the Eye of Helios left no doubt in his mind what just happened.

"Holy shit," Gaige breathed, jaw on the ground as she gaped up at the floating eyesore. "Did he just...blow up the moonshot cannon on Helios?"

"Sure looks it," Axton muttered, equally stunned. Well, that was certainly one way to get Hyperion to stop attacking. "God damn. Guess that target practice really paid off."

Lawrence descended back down to the ground. By now all of the vault hunters were arriving, drawn back to the center of town by the light show. They all wore similar expressions of startled disbelief at the sight of Lawrence bathed in supernatural light. No one had to ask what happened, though - not with the fucking Watcher standing off to the side.

Athena was the last to skid around a corner, leaping over loader bot parts and chunks of concrete. She looked absolutely ready to slice through anything in her path, but that tough exterior splintered when she caught sight of Lawrence's current condition. Xiphos slipped from her grip and clattered noisily on the ground.

Lawrence’s feet finally touched the ground. He wasn't glowing nearly as brightly as he had been, probably because he'd used up all of his power from blasting the moonshot cannon to hell. Now it was only his hands, eyes, and the markings on his face that bore the purple glow of an Eridian warrior.

"Lawrence," Athena said, sounding as lost as she looked.

Instead of looking at his friend, Lawrence turned around to face the Watcher, which had remained stationary the entire time Lawrence had been defending the city. Lawrence's movements had been nothing short of graceful up until this moment, but now he took a slow, jerky step towards the Watcher that gave him the resemblance of something undead rather than something ethereal. The next step was just as reluctant. Axton realized what was happening, and _like fuck_ he was going to let it.

"Lawrence!" he yelled as he bolted for him. He tackled the man from behind and threw his arms around his neck, but it was Axton who had the wind knocked out of him. Lawrence didn't budge in the slightest; he was like a goddamned stone pillar.

Gaige was quick to latch herself around Lawrence's arm and pulled as hard as she could. "C'mon, dude, don't be like this!" she wailed.

"You remember the promise you made me make? About not lettin’ you go if that fuckin' thing tried to take you?" Axton tightened his grip until his arms ached with the strain. "I don't give a shit if you agreed to this! You're not goin’ anywhere!"

Athena joined in, tackling Lawrence around his middle. Her heels dug into the dirt, but her added force and weight didn't seem to make a difference to Lawrence, who managed to take another step towards the Watcher.

"Fight it, Law!" Axton yelled, summoning a violent burst of strength that managed to yank Lawrence back a few inches. It didn't make a difference; Lawrence kept moving forward. "Don't give yourself over like this...!"

Axton cast a glance at Lawrence's face to see if anything he'd said had gotten through and was horrified to note the purple-tinted tears trickling down his cheeks. Lawrence was awake in there, he realized. He was awake and aware and unable to do anything but take stilted steps towards the end of his life. Axton was going to lose him, but this wasn't to a stupid, messy breakup. This was Lawrence losing his free will _again_ and being whisked off to Elpis where he would likely never return.  
  
Axton's heart plummeted as Lawrence touched his hand to the Watcher's. He tightened his grip, still determined not to let Lawrence go without one hell of a fight. His hair abruptly stood on end, and in that same moment, he felt Lawrence jerk.

His ears popped as Lawrence summoned a huge blast of Eridium energy into the palm of his hand and sent it straight through the Watcher. Axton had to squeeze his eyes shut against the brightness. When he finally blinked away the spots, he was gobsmacked to find that Lawrence had blown through half of the Watcher, leaving behind a smoldering shell that crumpled to the ground a split second later.

Everyone jumped away from Lawrence at the same time, torn between gaping at him and what had just become of the Watcher.

Lawrence blinked his bright eyes and slowly lowered his arm. "Oops," he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	41. Chapter 41

Lawrence spread his fingers and watched as the little ball of Eridium light he'd been toying with for the past half hour grow a little bigger, brighter. He brought the tips of his fingers to his thumb, extinguishing the ball. With a flick of his wrist, he brought it back to life.

_Somehow_.

It was beyond weird watching this energy appear out of nothing and roll around in his grasp. He didn't understand how it worked. He didn't understand how he'd been able to not only shield Sanctuary from Hyperion's wrath, but also destroy the moonshot cannon on board Helios without actually leaving the planet.

He remembered doing it. He remembered feeling the surge of power in his veins, the almost orgasmic feeling of being at that very moment the strongest person on Pandora. But if someone asked him to do it again, he wasn't sure how he'd go about it. He wasn't sure if he _could_.

He was, yet again, a stranger in his own body thanks to someone else. Though, to be fair, he did technically ask for it this time, and he didn't regret it. Not when it meant that everyone he cared about was, for the time being, safe and sound.

Someone knocked on the door, drawing him out of his meditation. Axton poked his head into the room and uttered a quiet greeting. The man looked on edge, as he rightfully should have been after everything he'd seen and gone through in the last twelve hours. Lawrence knew that if he looked in a mirror, he would be weirded out by what he saw, too.

Lawrence did his best to put the man at ease. He flashed him a genuine smile and returned his greeting. “Hi.”

It seemed to work. The tension seeped out of the commando's shoulders as a weak grin of his own flashed across his handsome mug. "How are you feelin'?" he asked, taking a few tentative steps forward.

"Well," Lawrence held up the little sphere, "not...normal, that's for sure."

He felt lighter, somehow, but there was also something heavy inside him - an imposing presence thrumming painlessly against his rib cage. He could think clearly for the first time in...gosh, a long, long time, probably because the incessant urge to consume Eridium was gone. That was one less thing bugging him. He couldn't be sure, but the voices in his head had gone quiet and haven't made themselves known since last night, too.

"Weird, but...definitely better than I've felt in a long time," Lawrence concluded.

Axton eyed the ball of energy wearily, prompting Lawrence to get rid of it. "At least your cognizant," he muttered. "Not like the first time."

"I'm assuming that's why Lilith hasn't thrown me into another jail cell with the hopes of detoxing me."

The commando grunted. "She wants to see you."

Lawrence nodded as he rose to his feet. "Is she mad about what I did to the Watcher?" Not that the bastard didn't deserve getting a hole blasted through half his body. Lawrence would do it again in a heartbeat if he knew how.

"I wouldn't say she's mad," Axton said, scratching the back of his head. His hair had gotten longer, Lawrence noticed abruptly, though that endearing cowlick was still trying desperately to remain present. "Irritated, yeah, but I think we're all just glad Hyperion's off our asses for the time bein'. Thanks for that, by the way. I'm tellin' you now 'cos I don't think Lilith's gonna remember to do that - "

"Axton."

The commando paused and sent him a curious look over his shoulder.

Lawrence felt himself turning a little red as he said quietly, "I'm glad you're okay."

That brought a smile to Axton's face. "All thanks to you," he said, turning to lift up his shirt. There was a faint scar stretching across his stomach, a few inches below his navel. "And look! We totally match now."

The sight of the scar made Lawrence inwardly wilt. Why couldn't he have had these healing powers back when Axton had been lying comatose on a hospital bed with his guts hanging out? At least Axton was taking it in stride. Vault hunters usually wore their scars with pride, especially if it was the result of something that would have killed anyone else.

Lawrence wound up echoing the commando's grin with a small one of his own. "Put your shirt down. Stop trying to seduce me, you deviant."

Axton mock-gasped and raised both hands to his face, allowing his tank top to slide back over his toned stomach. "I would never! You're one to talk, you know. Flauntin' those super powers like that - it's enough to make anyone wet."

Lawrence guffawed quietly as they made their way down the hall. "Doubtful."

"Says you! You know how I get when you're all bossy n' shit." Axton gave an over-exaggerated shudder and feigned swooning. "Man, just think about all the new kinky sex we could'a had. Real shame you had to dump me."

Axton's tone was teasing. He meant no harm by the comment, but both men knew that it was still a pretty tender topic.

"We could, um, fix that," Lawrence suggested lamely. "Me and the kid aren't - "

Said kid was suddenly barreling into Lawrence's knees, clinging to them so tightly that Lawrence almost lost his balance.

"Easy, easy," he cooed, lifting him into his arms. "We're all okay. See?"

The kid stared at him for a moment, fascinated by his glowing eyes and markings. Lawrence wondered with baited breath if he would be wary of him like everyone else seemed to be. Then, much to Lawrence's relief, a wet grin popped onto the kid's face. His body shuddered with a silent laugh as he latched his little arms around Lawrence's neck.

"Good to see you too, kiddo," he said, patting the boy's shoulders. He caught Axton's gobsmacked expression and grinned. "Skag got your tongue?"

"When did this happen?"

"When you were lying on an operating table with your guts hanging out," Lawrence said, shrugging. "You know what they say about tragedies bringing people together."

Axton frowned as he reached out and ruffled the kid's hair. "Oh," was all he could mutter on that subject.

They walked to the meeting room. Lawrence honestly expected half of Sanctuary to be present, so he was mildly surprised to find that only Lilith, Mordecai, and Tannis were waiting for him. He knew Gaige, Pickle, and Scooter were back to tinkering with Sanctuary's system after they'd managed to convert some of the constructor parts into working fuel cells. The others were probably out trying to help clean up town, like he wanted to be doing. Instead he was being interrogated _again_.

"Lawrence," Lilith said in greeting.

"Lilith." He looked around the room, noting everyone's wide gazes. As if his overall appearance wasn't enough to raise some brows, he realized he was also holding the kid. "Is there something on my face?"

That got a few wry smirks out of some of the room's occupants, but the air of tension was still present.

Lawrence took the nearest seat. The kid made a face and lifted his arms at Axton, who readily scooped him up before taking position a few paces behind Lawrence. His presence made Lawrence relax slightly, but he wouldn't allow himself to put his guard down yet. Lilith had yet to show any real emotion. There could be one hell of a storm brewing for all he knew.

"So," Lilith began through a sigh. "In a span of twelve hours, you've not only become a foster parent with Mr. Commando here, but you've also managed to save the entire city with some newly-acquired freaky-ass alien powers."

Lawrence frowned. "You're welcome."

She threw her hands up. "Not attacking you, tiger. Just wondering how you're feeling after such an eventful day."

"Pretty good."

"Not runnin' low after practically blowing a hole through Helios?"

Lawrence thought about it. He felt a little tired, perhaps, but still better than he'd felt in years. "Not really, no. I'm just as surprised as you are, honestly."

"Interesting."

Lilith drew a pistol and shot Lawrence once in the gut. A multitude of exclamations and cursing erupted from the entire room, the loudest being from Axton, who immediately shifted the kid in his arms so that he could draw his own gun and point it at the siren, which had Mordecai drawing his revolver and pointing it at the commando. The kid looked like he would've been wailing like an infant had his vocal chords worked; instead he clung to Axton, shuddering and leaking various fluids from his nose and eyes.

Lilith dropped her pistol onto the table, prompting both men to reluctantly lower their weapons. Her gaze was locked onto Lawrence. "How about now?"

"You can't just shoot people for no goddamn reason, Lily," Mordecai told her flatly. "We've been over this."

"It was an experiment," Lilith replied simply. "No harm no foul, right, Law?"

Lawrence glared up at her as he slowly pulled his hands away from his gut. The pain had already faded into a dull throb as the wound sealed up in a matter of seconds. "Sure," he gritted out.

"See?" Lilith said, turning to the rest of the room. "He's fine. Everyone calm down."

Tannis approached him. "Fascinating," she said, peering close at the wound just as the last of it closed over. "The accelerated healing here far surpasses anything Anshin could ever hope to produce. I'm going to assume that the bullet was broken down and absorbed into your body?"

"I don't know. I guess." Maybe he'd shit it out later for all he knew. God, he hoped not.

"Fascinating," the doctor said again, tapping a slender finger against her chin. "I wish to study these effects more closely. How much money and-or potentially deadly weaponry and munitions would I have to supply you with in order to get you to submit to a series of experiments?"

Lawrence's jaw dropped. "I'm not - I'm _not_ going to let you experiment on me! Getting shot was enough, thanks!" He shot Lilith another glare for good measure.

"Pity," Tannis said, straightening up. "You might hold the key to producing a new type of accelerated healing medication. Imagine what that could mean for the citizens of Sanctuary if Hyperion decides to retaliate again."

Lawrence wilted until Axton let out a snort from behind him and snapped, "Stop tryin' to guilt-trip him into bein' your guinea pig. He's still a human being, in case you forgot."

Tannis arched a brow. "Is he?"

The notion hadn't escaped Lawrence. For all intents and purposes, he could be seen as something supernatural now, something inhuman, despite how he felt. He looked down at his vibrant hands in his lap and bit his lip as Axton proceeded to curse Tannis out for even suggesting such a thing, true as it may be.

"I don't know how any of my powers work," Lawrence said after the room fell quiet again. "I can heal myself. I can do this." He conjured the little ball of light, making half the room recoil. He snuffed it out as quickly as he'd formed it. "That's the extent of my knowledge at the moment. I don't know if a war is still coming. Hell, I don't even know if I killed the Watcher. It could be back in a few weeks. I don't know."

"All the more reason to experiment," Tannis said, earning a murderous glare from Axton.

"What _do_ you know?" Mordecai asked, swiftly avoiding another argument.

Flashes of a brutal, bleak future flickered through Lawrence's mind, sapping the anger right out of him. "When I touched the Watcher's hand, I saw what was to come once I went with it," he admitted. "Sorry, but it was the promise of that terrible future that snapped me out of it, not your pleas."

Axton clicked his tongue. "That bad?"

Though everyone had turned to send him curious looks, the only one he met head on was Lilith's. "Parts of the truth came to me in dreams, but none of it made sense until now. The Watcher wanted me to lead the remnants of the Lost Legion still on the moon down to Pandora. Did it tell you that the Eternal Army would fight loyally at your side, Lilith? Is that what it made you believe?"

She frowned. "It showed me what would happen if you took command," she said slowly. "It showed the soldiers destroying Hyperion. I saw that damn space station plummeting out of the sky."

Lawrence shut his eyes, recalling the pieces of his nightmares and putting them all together. "The Eternal Army will descend on this planet," he began softly, seeing the swirling mass of purple and gray surging over the planet like a swarm of locust, swallowing everything whole. "It's true that they'll eradicate Hyperion's forces from the planet and tear Helios piece by piece out of the sky."

Lilith bit her lip. "What _didn't_ the Watcher mention?"

Lawrence opened his glowing eyes, but he could still see the blood of innocent people on his hands, could still hear their cries as they were also swallowed by the Eternal Army. "That the Eternal Army wouldn't stop there. Their mission is and always will be to guard vaults from humans. Pandora is littered with vaults, more than any other planet on this side of the galaxy. Once Hyperion is eliminated, they will move onto the rest of the planet's inhabitants. Men, women, children - it doesn't matter to them. They are loyal to the mission above all else." He fixed the entire room with a serious look. "The war the Watcher had been telling you about? It's not between Pandora and Hyperion. It's between humanity and the Eridians."

The revelation left the siren looking pale and horrified, along with the rest of the room's occupants. "Are you serious?" she hissed through gritted teeth. "The Watcher said - "

"The Watcher told you the truth," Lawrence said. "Just not all of it."

A heavy silence fell upon everyone for a moment as they all pondered their fate. Lawrence kept quiet, letting the awful truth sink in. Lilith brought her hands to her head and pulled on her hair as she began to pace. The air of defeat that filled the room was suffocating.

"Well, we don't have to worry about any of that anymore, right?" Axton asked, sounding desperate. "The war's never gonna happen. Not without you."

Lawrence shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Mordecai snorted. "What, you can't use your mystical alien powers to see into the future?" he asked, only sounding half serious.

"I told you: I don't know how my 'powers' work. I've told you everything I know." He felt beyond useless, which was ridiculous given what he'd just done to save essentially everyone in town.

Lilith heaved a sigh. "Okay, well, here's what we know for a fact: Hyperion won't be able to open fire on Sanctuary without the moonshot cannon. It'll probably be repaired in a few days, maybe a week if we're lucky, but we should have a new shield up by then. For now, we can relax and rebuild."

"Rebuild, at any rate," Axton muttered. He straightened up. The kid's legs dangled like limp noodles at his hips. "Are we done here?"

"For now," Lilith said, turning away to fiddle with one of the monitors lining the room's walls. Some of them were hanging by wires, having been thrashed by the battle. It was nothing compared to how the rest of town looked, though.

"Try not to kill anyone," Lilith called to Lawrence as he began to leave with Axton. "At least, not until you get a handle on those powers of yours."

"Wasn't planning on it," Lawrence muttered, rolling his eyes.

He could feel Tannis staring a hole through the back of his head; the sensation stayed with him long after he and Axton descended back into the main room of HQ. The place was pretty empty at the moment since Lilith had ordered most of the Crimson Raiders to help out with rebuilding the town. Lawrence itched to get out there and help, especially since he felt partially responsible for the attack.

"I should've said something," he blurted.

"About what?" Axton asked.

Lawrence fidgeted. "I...I think Hyperion attacked us because they were after me."

The commando quirked a brow - the one with the chevrons, which made him flinch and irritably rub the damn things with his free hand. "Why d'you say that? I mean, how would they even know?"

"Satellite pictures and trackers aside, I think it's possible that the driver of that caravan we raided a few months ago saw me and said something to his higher-ups."

Axton sneered. "And you think they'd take the word of some transport drone? Look, Sanctuary's always had a big-ass Hyperion-yellow target on it. It was probably gonna happen sooner or later, with or without you bein' here."

Lawrence wasn't so convinced. He didn't want to assume anything at this point. For now, at least, they could have a moment or two of peace before Hyperion lashed out again. And they would. That much Lawrence was sure of.

"Thank you for keeping your promise," he said, changing the subject. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep mine."

Axton shrugged the shoulder that the kid wasn't occupying. "It wasn't like you were doin' it to be selfish. You saved everyone, dude."

"And almost lost myself in the process."

"Well, you didn't. I'm, uh, glad," Axton added with an awkward cough.

Lawrence smiled at him. "Me too."

A short moment of amicable silence passed between the two men. The kid shifted in his sleep. Lawrence could see that he was drooling all over Axton's shoulder. The commando didn't seem to mind, though. He looked pretty natural cradling the boy to his chest.

"While we're still in the heat of our heart-to-heart, I want to apologize," Lawrence said. "About the kid. I - "

"I know why," Axton said gently. "You thought you'd finally gotten over all the shit that'd been holdin’ you down, and then I dragged this squirt back here and threw him in your face like a brutal, scary reminder. It ain't your fault or his. And you're right, I should've called ahead and told you about him. I should’ve trusted you. So I'm sorry."

Lawrence sniffed and kicked at an invisible rock on the ground. "Thank you," he whispered.

Axton hummed, then cleared his throat and grinned crookedly at him. "So, uh, now that we're friends again, you wanna make out?"

Lawrence burst into a fit of laughter, startling the kid awake. "You're unbelievable!" he gasped in between giggles as he touched his hand to the kid's forehead to lull him back to sleep. "And where do you suppose we do that? The hostel's gone, and most of the beds here have been claimed by the homeless."

"Oh yeah," Axton muttered, wilting. "Crap, all of my stuff is gone, isn't it? I haven't had time to think about that..."

All he had was what he was wearing and a pistol. He was lucky he even had his auto-cannon. Lawrence mentally kicked himself for saying anything and bringing the commando's mood way down.

"Times like these, I take off for a couple weeks and come back when everything's rebuilt," Axton joked weakly. "Though really, a road trip is lookin' pretty good at this point. And with Hyperion out of commission for now..." He met Lawrence's eyes, his gaze hopeful. "You wanna come with me?"

Lawrence's chest tightened for a multitude of reasons. Yes, yes he did, he wanted to disappear with Axton and never have to worry about his new powers, Hyperion - none of that ever again. Still: "What about the kid? We really shouldn't take him out of Sanctuary."

Yet again Axton's mood came crashing down courtesy of a reality check. "You're right," he said through a sad sigh as he stroked the kid's back. "I guess this was why Sarah never wanted any kids. Though to be fair, I would've made a shitty father."

Lawrence’s brows rose at the revelation. He would’ve sworn Axton would have turned his nose up at the prospect of having kids. The way he interacted with Tina made Lawrence assume this, but then again, Tina was like a thirty-year-old woman in the body of a teenager, so perhaps that wasn’t the best way to judge.

"You're doing all right with this one," he offered.

"I guess." He shrugged as best as he could with the kid dangling from his neck. "Only 'cos he's easy to take care of and my thirst for personal glory has been sated for the time bein'."

Lawrence could understand that thirst. He hadn't ever desired the glory and adventure that came with vault hunting, but he certainly craved the money that often came with it. A part of him wanted it even now after his need for cash literally ruined his life.

"Well," he began slowly, "maybe when that thirst comes back, I can take the wheel with the kid for a while."

It took Axton a second to realize what that meant. "You'd be willin' to be a stay-at-home mom for this runt while I bring home the bacon?" he teased, cracking a half-grin.

"Only if you're willing to share some of that bacon," Lawrence said, returning the smirk. "Think of me as a permanent babysitter. If - if you want me to be, I mean." He felt a little dumb for even suggesting it. He and Axton were technically still exes.

"I think we can arrange somethin'," the commando said. "But for now, I think I'm gonna follow the kid's example and get some shut-eye."

"Sounds good." Lawrence turned his gaze to the front door. As Axton flopped down onto one of the bunks, mindful of the child in his arms, he made his way outside to see what he could do to help rebuild his town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	42. Chapter 42

Sanctuary was a goddamn mess.

A few buildings had completely crumbled, not including the Pierce Station, and several others would definitely need to be demolished for safety purposes. The roads would have to be repaved in places where mortars and loader bot transports had broken them into pieces. The power was still out on Moxxi's side of town, but she found ways to supply folk with drinks and tunes. Civilians, vault hunters, and Crimson Raiders alike were all working hard to clear the rubble from their town.

Despite the damage, Lawrence had to remind himself of the fact that, miraculously, no one had perished in the fight. All of the civilians had made it to the bunkers, and those who were out on the field had only sustained superficial wounds. Last Lawrence heard, only five or so Crimson Raiders were still recovering in Dr. Zed's clinic - all conscious, all (understandably) eager to get the hell out of there. So what if a few buildings got destroyed?

"How goes it?" he asked Gaige once he got closer to the main console.

The girl picked her head up and pulled the goggles away from her eyes. A grin split her pretty, grease-smudged face in two. "Hey, Law! You're lookin' mighty _bright_ today."

" _Wow_ , good one."

"I try," Gaige said, still grinning as she rose to her feet and dusted her hands off on her coveralls. "To answer your question, things are goin' pretty good. I dunno how you did it, but you managed to jump-start the fuel cells without exploding them. We've got shields and enough fuel to keep us afloat for probably like, another year or two at most. Pickle's actually working on making some extra fuel cells from parts of the constructor bots lying around just in case. I guess that kid's more than just a pretty face and a moderately annoying voice."

Gaige made a goofy, love-struck expression that made Lawrence roll his eyes. As he had predicted, she had been chasing after Pickle since the kid arrived and only really rolled back on the incessant flirting when she learned that they shared a mutual love for mechanical things. Though he seemed to lack her desire to actually work on said mechanical things; he preferred to steal them and sell them to people dumb enough to pay for them at his ludicrous prices.

Speak of the devil: Pickle was currently making his way over to them with an armful of tools that looked equal parts dangerous as they did useful for whatever it was Gaige was trying to do.

"Fink this stuff'll help you do the trick, love?" the Elpisian asked Gaige, only to do a triple take at the sight of Lawrence in all his skin-glowing glory. "Cripes! Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but what the bloody 'ell 'appened to your boat?"

"My - my what?" 

"Your face, mate! It's all..." Pickle waved his hand in front of his face, like that somehow translated into actual words.

Lawrence narrowed his glowing eyes. "Nice to see you survived the attack, Pickle," he snapped, just a little unkindly. "You're welcome for that, by the way."

The man turned a light shade of pink. "Sorry," he said lamely. "Juss' took me by surprise is all. They said you saved us, but nobody mentioned your, er, well, I guess transformation is an appropriate word?"

"Sure." Lawrence was kind of afraid to hear what else was being said about him. The whole town knew about him by now. No one had come at him with torches and pitchforks yet, so he assumed most of the citizens were grateful for what he did.

"Leave him alone, Picks," Gaige said through a small laugh. "Just be grateful Lilith didn't throw him in prison, otherwise we'd be concocting a plan to bust him out - old school, with a spoon and a well-placed tunnel."

Lawrence cracked a smile. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty sure I could get out of there myself."

"Hell yeah you could! Speaking of awesome powers, are you here to help move some of the bigger chunks of rubble? Without machines to do it, we're kinda down to smashing them up with pick-axes.”

Pickle nodded in agreement as he passed Gaige a weird looking tool. “It’s a great stress reliever,” he said, “but it’s already gotten old."

"How would I help move giant pieces of rock and metal?"

"Uh, with your _brain_?” Gaige suggested, wrinkling her nose at him. “You blew up the moonshot cannon on Helios with a wave of your hand, remember? I'm sure clearing this stuff would be cakewalk for you."

Lawrence bit his lip and looked down at his hands, vibrant even underneath his gloves. "I don't know how I did that," he admitted. His body had moved on its own, fueled by his deep desire to help his friends and save the town, though a part of him was sure that the Watcher had something to do with it, too. 

"You're planning on learning, though, right? You've got these awesome-ass abilities now that you can use to help people." Gaige shrugged as she popped her goggles back on. "That's what I would do, anyway."

Lawrence watched as she wiggled herself into the gap between the machinery and got back to work alongside her maybe-boyfriend. She had a point, he mused as he turned and began walking towards the large crowd of people that were gathered around what remained of the Pierce Station. Surely there was no harm in at least trying to help out, right?

He spat out a snort through his teeth. Sure, like _that_ wouldn't find some way to backfire in his face.

His mood lifted when he caught sight of a familiar body clad in red and black working among the rubble. With a yell, Athena brought a sledge hammer down on a rather large chunk of concrete, easily shattering it.

"Athena," he said, cracking a grin at the gladiator as she turned to look at him. Anything else he might've said came out as a grunt as the woman embraced him tightly. When she finally pulled back, he was surprised to see her looking pale. "You all right?"

"Just glad to see you," she muttered, taking a small step back to give him some space.

A small smile slowly crept onto his face. He hadn't seen Athena since last night and hadn't really gotten to say much to her before Lilith had whisked him away. "I'm glad to see you, too," he said. He nodded towards the sledge hammer. "Taking out some aggression?"

She nodded. "Figured I'd kill two rakks with one stone," she said. "You here to help?"

Lawrence thought about Gaige's words and found himself nodding before the sensible part of his brain could tell him no. He accepted the sledge hammer and made his way over to the sea of rubble, carefully traversing the battlefield so that he didn't wind up tripping and spraining an ankle (even though he was certain his body would just heal itself as it had before).

"Stand back," he said to everyone in the area. No one dared to disobey him, not when he looked the way he did. Not when the weapon in his hands was starting to radiate the same kind of energy that was emanating from his eyes.

Don't hurt anyone, he told himself as he lifted the hammer over his head. Please, please don't hurt anyone. Just the rocks. Just the rocks.

With that mantra on repeat in his head, he brought the hammer down. The concrete slab was obliterated on impact, and the chunks of rubble within a ten foot radius of him were reduced to tiny bits with a blast of purple-white energy. Lawrence let out a small wheeze as a pang of exhaustion jabbed at him, but it was gone in an instant, replaced with the tingling he'd come to associate with having veins full of Eridium.

A hush fell on the area. Lawrence shot a quick look over his shoulder, momentarily afraid of what he'd find, but relaxed when he found the crowd unharmed. They stared at him through wide eyes that were more astonished rather than fearful, much to his relief.

Holy shit, I did it, Lawrence thought, letting out a small, wet gasp that was half surprise and half relief.

A rumbling noise cut his victorious thoughts off. He whirled around just in time to see the top of a building one street over shuddering as it collapsed into a dust cloud that was swiftly swept away with the wind.

Then everything went eerily quiet.

"Oh _fuck_ ," he hissed, covering his mouth with his hands.

He bolted in that direction, Athena on his heels, only to stumble to a relieved halt at the sight of Private Jessup and a few other citizens and Raiders standing around the crumpled remains of the building. From everyone's lax stance, Lawrence assumed no one had been trapped within the rubble or worse.

Still: "Everyone all right?" he blurted upon arrival. "I - I'm sorry, I thought I had everything under control!"

Jessup turned and nodded at him. "Lawrence," he greeted calmly. "You responsible for this?"

"Y-yes, I think." Probably not directly, he figured, but he still wanted to assume responsibility. "I'm sorry, sir, it was an accident - "

"That building was scheduled for demolition anyway," Jessup said, shrugging. "You just saved us another three days of work at least."

Lawrence shuddered with relief. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick before the day was out. "Glad to be of service," he said weakly. "Anything else I can do?"

Jessup turned to stare at the rubble of the building, humming. "Oh, I’m sure I can find you something.”

~

The days trickled by, and slowly Sanctuary got back on its feet. The shield remained on and stronger than ever, Scooter reported, all thanks to the combined efforts of whatever Lawrence had done to supercharge it and Gaige's thorough tinkering. Cleaning up the town had been relatively painless; Lawrence used his powers whenever he felt comfortable enough, which helped speed up the process. Most of the population seemed to appreciate his helping hand, even if a lot of them were still a little understandably wary around him.

One week later, things were back to being as normal as normal was these days.

But as normal as life in the city was, Lawrence had begun to notice something amiss about himself, other than the obvious. The first time he had helped Sanctuary get rid of some unwanted rubble, all he had to do was blink and it was gone. Three or four days down the road after non-stop obliterating, however, he noted that it was getting harder and harder for him to smash the chunks of concrete and bent metal.

"Maybe you should take a break," Athena suggested, eying his hunched over, panting frame with worry.

"Nah," he said, waving off her concern. "Just gimme a second to catch my breath."

Now, over a week later, Lawrence was exhausted - to the point where standing upright was a challenge. He tried to sleep it off, but all he seemed to be able to do was slip off into this weird state where he wasn't quite conscious, but he definitely wasn't sleeping. That didn't seem to replenish his strength any. Eating and drinking were still useless. He was at a loss at what to do.

"Maybe you're naturally detoxing," Axton suggested one quiet night. He had rented out a room across the street from Dr. Zed’s clinic; it was bare save for a desk in one corner and a bed in the other that he shared with the kid. Currently Lawrence was also crammed onto the full-sized mattress, staring blankly up at the ceiling while the kid slumbered next to him.

"Maybe," he said quietly. It explained why his arms weren't glowing as brightly as they had been, at any rate. At least it wasn't painful this time around.

The only real issue was that he wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to detox again.

He made the mistake of telling that to Axton. He then spent the next day sleeping at HQ in one of the bunk beds in the main room, too tired to be upset over the quarrel he and the commando had.

It was Tannis, of all people, who woke him who knows when later. He ignored her at first, just wanting to rest, but she was persistent.

"Are you listening, you purple abomination? I believe I've figured out the key to fixing your little exhaustion problem.”

“Go ‘way,” he gritted out, rolling away from the scientist.

“Fine. I suppose scientific progress isn’t made by asking permission.”

She reached around him and jabbed something sharp and hard against his chest. His eyes flew open just in time to notice that it was a decent-sized chunk of Eridium. Then it was gone; he sucked in a wet gasp as his body absorbed the mineral straight through his clothing. Instantly he was filled with an overall sense of rejuvenation, from the tips of his fingers to his very core. The strange thrumming sensation from behind his ribcage began to pick up again, like a machine chugging back to life after being on standby.

“Whoa,” he managed to say in between breaths. Why hadn’t he thought of this? He had craved the mineral the entire time it had been vacant from his body before the Watcher filled him up, for fuck’s sake. It made sense.

“I’m an idiot,” he concluded.

“So you and all the other inhabitants of this town continue to prove,” Tannis said.

He finally looked at her and noticed that she was holding another chunk of Eridium. He didn’t thirst for it, but he asked for it anyway, wanting to test something.

She wordlessly held it out to him, and he wasted little time in plucking it out of her hands. It was warm in his palm and tingled a little against his skin. When he tentatively closed his fingers over it, the mineral didn’t react. The second he thought about absorbing it, however, it gave a small flash before dissolving into his body through his palm. He shuddered at the sensation; it didn’t hurt, but it did leave him feeling bloated, like he’d just eaten two full-course meals.

“It’s as I suspected,” Tannis said, jutting her chin triumphantly. “Because you depleted most of the Eridium you had in your body by partaking in manual labor with the local peasants, you absorbed the first piece I offered you without consciously trying, yet you had to willingly absorb the second piece because you already had a substantial amount in your body.”

Lawrence stared at her. “You’re saying that when I start running low on energy, I can recharge myself using Eridium,” he said slowly. “And that my body knows when there’s enough inside it to keep me functioning.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said. You should see Dr. Zed about your hearing loss, and then return to me so that we can continue testing - where are you going?”

“Thanks, Tannis!” Lawrence called over his shoulder as he bolted from HQ.

He found Axton hanging out with Athena near the edge of the city near Scooter’s garage. The two looked deep in conversation, but Lawrence was too excited to give them their space. He all but skipped up to them and barely noticed that their conversation died immediately when they saw him coming.

“Hi,” he said, grinning at both of them.

Athena flashed him a small, hesitant smile while Axton outright sized him up, wary. “You’re brighter,” he pointed out. “What did you do?”

“Tannis helped me figure it out. I need to recharge after using my powers,” Lawrence explained excitedly. “I guess I do have a limit on how much I can use before I get tired. But all I need to do is absorb a chunk or two of Eridium and I’m back to normal!”

“Normal?” Axton echoed, incredulous. “You call this _normal_? You look like you’re ready to take on all of Hyperion again! I thought you were gonna detox, bro!”

Lawrence’s mirth began to fade. “I never agreed to that,” he said, frowning. “Why should I when I can use my new powers to help people?”

“At what risk? You were so tired yesterday that you could hardly walk! I mean, yeah, it’s nice not to have to lug a ton of rubble away, but these powers clearly aren’t good for you.”

Lawrence shook his head, confused and angry and saddened all at once by the commando’s attitude. He knew his new powers weirded the man out, but he never knew it was to this extent.

“I’m stronger now,” he said. He hated how it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as the people around him. “I know how to stay strong. This is a good thing, Axton.”

The commando scowled. “You don’t know that,” he said. “You don’t know jack shit about your powers.”

“I know more than you do, you prick!” Lawrence snapped, finally losing his patience. “Fine, if you don’t like them, then I’ll do my best to stay out of your way so you don’t have to see me use them!”

Axton rolled his eyes as he too said goodbye to the last of his levelheadedness. “I’m just concerned about you! Why the hell are you so against that?”

“I’m not! But I’d appreciate it more if you didn’t treat me like a child in the process.” Axton opened his mouth to protest, but Lawrence cut him off with a sputter. “Don’t you dare try to deny it! Athena, tell him!”

The gladiator threw her hands up. “I’m not getting involved in this,” she said firmly, shaking her head.

“Probably wise,” Lawrence conceded, huffing.

A long-suffering sigh escaped the commando as he drew a hand through his hair. “Can we just - sit down and discuss this before you make any big decisions?” he asked, sending him a look that normally would have swayed Lawrence if he hadn't already been furious.

“I’ve already made my decision,” he told him with an air of finality. Lawrence turned away and attempted to stride off with his nose in the air, but Axton snarled his name in exasperation and snagged him by his wrist, trying to halt him.

A spike of anger flared through Lawrence, making him rip his arm out of the other man’s grasp and snap, “Don’t fucking touch me!”

To everyone's surprise, Axton recoiled violently with a pained yell that quickly died off into gasping groans as he gripped his hand out in front of him. The skin on his palm was smoking and already bubbling up in painful-looking blisters. Lawrence gaped open-mouthed at what he'd done to it. Behind Axton, Athena wore a stunned, wide-eyed expression as she too stared at the wounds.

"Oh god," Lawrence whispered, stumbling backwards. He began to tremble uncontrollably as he hugged his arms to his chest. "I hurt you, I hurt you..."

Axton tore his gaze away from his smoldering hand. His face was twisted with pain, but it shifted quickly to concern when he noted Lawrence's stance. "No - no, it's fine, bro. Nothin' an Ashin patch or two can't fix. Law, don't..."

Lawrence continued to back away despite Axton's pleas. Raw terror and disgust burrowed deeply into his bones - his hideous, Eridium-infected bones. It churned in his stomach and prickled his skin. Of course his powers would backfire on him. Of course Axton was right - he had no idea how to control himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, slowly shaking his head back and forth. He didn't need Jack whispering venomously into his ear about how horrible of a monster he was. He knew and believed it now. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Lawrence, stop!" Athena barked, extending a panicked hand towards him. "You're backing towards the edge. Just...calm down and come back here so we can discuss this. Please."

He'd hurt them again. He was too dangerous. Hyperion was after him, and now he was hurting the ones he loved. He had to go.

"I have to go," he said out loud, taking another step back towards the edge of Sanctuary. To where, he wasn't sure. Just away. _Take me away from here before someone else gets hurt._

His hair abruptly stood on end.

"Law," Axton hissed, moving forward. He looked ready to pounce. "Law, don't you fuckin' dare...!"

He lunged for him, but Lawrence was already gone, hurling himself through the air, through time or space or a portal to hell, he didn't know. His skin prickled as the energy inside him bubbled and ebbed like a thrashing, stormy sea, burning and orgasmic all at once.

Then it all stopped. He slammed into something, and his body jerked and broke and rebuilt itself in a matter of seconds. As he finally came to a tumbling stop, the roaring in his ears faded to the dull thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat.

When Lawrence finally chanced opening his eyes, he found himself staring up at a crystal clear blue sky. He picked his head up, momentarily confused as clumps of half-melted snow and ice drifted down in front of his gaze. He had landed in a snow drift somewhere far, far from the Highlands, from Sanctuary, he realized, looking around.

It was a frozen, mountainous area he'd teleported himself to. There were only white blankets draped across the ground for miles with the occasional gray patch of stony earth peeking through to blemish the sight. The air was terribly cold and made worse by a steady wind that ruffled his damp clothes and hair. He could feel its freezing bite, even with his veins full of Eridium. There was also a numbness creeping through his body that no amount of the mineral could shield him from.

He had no clue where he was, no ECHO device to help him figure that out. He was lost, and he was completely and utterly alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and on that lovely note, the Sanctuary arc comes to an end! 
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	43. Chapter 43

Lawrence slowly drifted back into consciousness as the telltale stench of burning flesh invaded his nostrils. At first he thought he was dreaming, but then the sensation of being too close to a flame shoved its way into his senses, finally jolting him awake. It took a moment, but eventually he forced his eyes open and saw nothing but white until he flicked his eyes skyward.

Red stood above him, straight-faced as ever as he slowly burned through the snow drift with his hands. He had already melted a hole through the top of Lawrence's tomb, allowing sunlight to pour inside and further warm him up.

"Get up, sir," the hologram said.

For a second, Lawrence's lips wouldn't work. Like his eyelids, they had frozen shut from disuse, and parting them forcibly caused them to tear and bleed until the Eridium in his blood kicked in and healed him.

"Leave me here," he gritted out, trying to back himself away from the heat. Most of his body was stuck in place. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat on the mountain after flinging himself there, but it had been long enough for him to be swallowed up by a storm. "Just leave me here to die."

"Negative, sir."

"That's an order, you prick!"

"The Eridium in your body won't allow you to die, sir. Hyperion will find you if you stay here. They will find you, take you back to Helios, and possibly force you to hurt your friends in Sanctuary. The whole point of you leaving town was to avoid that, yes?"

Lawrence blinked rapidly up at his double. "Y-yes..."

"Then get up, sir."

It took a few minutes to actually dig himself out of his tomb, even with Red helping to melt through the wall of ice and snow. Lawrence's clothes were stiff, and parts of his jacket even tore off when he finally crawled out of the snow drift.

"Y-you're good with the whole m-motivational speech thing," Lawrence stuttered, hugging his arms around his middle.

"I am good at relaying the facts."

Lawrence lifted his frozen limbs and watched as Red encased them one at a time in his holographic hands, heating them up until he could move his fingers again. "Wh-why am I shaking?” he asked through chattering teeth. “I th-thought the Eridium would’ve shielded me from the cold.”

Red tilted his holographic head. "May I make an educated guess, sir?"

Lawrence waved him on as he struggled to his feet. His knees wobbled in protest, but he managed not to fall on his ass again.

"I assume that the Eridium is shielding your body from the most brutal side effects of the weather, but not actually keeping you from feeling them."

"Th-that's stupid." But it also kind of made sense. He used up a lot of energy throwing himself halfway across the map. Maybe his Eridium-fueled body was doing what it could to keep him alive, even if it meant prioritizing one thing over another due to lack of power.

He sighed and hung his head. Axton was right. He didn’t know anything about how his powers worked. He was lucky he hadn't torn himself apart hurling himself halfway across the globe.

“I believe you should start making your way down the mountain, sir," Red said.

It was a sound idea, just a trip that Lawrence wasn't looking forward to in the slightest. Why couldn't he have teleported himself somewhere warm and safe and isolated?

"How did you summon yourself?" he asked after a while of careful descending. The snow was mostly solid but every now and then it would give way up to his knees, costing him some time and almost snapping his ankles.

"Gaige installed an emergency activation program," Red explained. "If your body displays signs of distress, such as low blood pressure, pulse, or a severe decrease in body temperature, one of us is automatically activated."

"Oh," he said lamely. He almost told his double to remind him to thank her, but the words died in his mouth. The chances of him seeing any of his friends again were extremely low. He was on his own now, with only his doubles to watch his back.

Which reminded him. He typed in the summoning code into his watch, bringing Blue out into the world with a whirl of digital data. He flashed him a broad grin in greeting.

"Hello to things!" he exclaimed, waving a stiff arm. "The happenings that are need doing?"

"No," Lawrence said, shaking his head. "Listen - "

"Why can not we in the city of floating?" Blue asked, tilting his head upwards in search of Sanctuary.

"Listen for a sec," Lawrence said firmly. "We're not near friendlies anymore. Unless you recognize the person or I tell you otherwise, everyone out here will likely be trying to kill me. Shoot to kill, okay?"

Blue's brow furrowed in confusion. "Floating sky castle friendlies!"

Irritated, Lawrence turned to Red, who replied with, "He is concerned about the ones you left behind. Your friends."

"Friends are belong to us," Blue pointed out.

"We don't have friends," Red argued, frowning at his shorter, less badass twin. "We are nothing more than digital particles and data codes that exist to obey orders."

Blue wilted with each word that left Red's mouth. "Oh," he muttered quietly, gaze sliding to the ground.

"Red, don't pick on him," Lawrence snapped, snagging their attention once more. "The others in Sanctuary will be fine without us, Blue. Just...keep an eye out for bad guys and remember my orders. Understand?"

Red nodded and fizzled out. Blue gave him a quick salute and one last semi-forced smile before he too disappeared, leaving Lawrence staring at empty air. Great, he'd have to cheer that dweeb up at some point, or at least force Red to apologize for being a douche, even if that was just how he was programmed.

He continued to make his way down the mountain. The snow was extremely deep in some places and slippery, but he moved with careful precision, testing each step before he put his full weight on it. It was slow, mind-numbing work. He didn't think about anything other than getting the hell off this mountain before nightfall.

But that wasn't going to happen, he realized when he got to a chasm in the middle of the mountain range. It was surely miles deep, he noted with a hard swallow, and maybe a quarter of a mile across. Who knows how long the damn thing went on for. It could wrap its way around half of the mountain for all Lawrence knew. Walking around it, assuming he could even do that, was going to make the whole trip even longer.

"Shit," he hissed, attempting and failing to drag his hands through his tangled, sopping wet hair. What the hell was he even doing? What was he _doing_?

He summoned his digital selves, watching as they materialized from thin air. They were immediately on guard, but relaxed at the sight of their boss sitting in the snow.

"Things that need doing?" Blue asked quietly. He still looked sad, Lawrence noted.

"No, I..." Lawrence coughed on the bitterly dry air and sat back on his haunches. "I just...need to not be alone for a second."

"Is the feeling of good like?" Blue asked, his melancholy swiftly shifting to concern.

Lawrence shook his head. He could feel a surge of panic and tension building up in his chest; it made him short of breath - more than he already was - and his heartbeat thrum in his ears.

"Subject is displaying signs of rapid breathing, excessive sweating, and trembling not associated with the temperature," Red spoke up, his dark eyes flashing as they scanned Lawrence. "Diagnosis: panic attack in progress or imminent."

Blue choked on a gasp and whirled to face his counterpart. "Do what to this ceasing of panic?" he demanded. Red echoed the question with a silent arched brow at their boss.

"Where should we go?" Lawrence asked his doubles, as if they would have any idea. "What should we do? I-I dove into this without a plan and now I don't know what to do. I didn't bring anything useful with me. I don't know how to use my powers without hurting people, I can't go home, I'm lost and scared and - "

"Attention button," Blue said suddenly and nodded at Lawrence like it was meant to be an assurance. Red shifted, suddenly nervous, while Blue continued to babble, "For the distressing!"

"Translate for me, Mr. Britannica," Lawrence said flatly, turning to the bigger of the two.

"There...is a distress beacon in your watch," Red admitted slowly, keeping his eyes on the snow.

Lawrence's gaped at him. "I - what? How? When did it...?"

"It automatically turned on when I was summoned."

Lawrence's lip curled as pangs of nervousness jabbed him in his gut. "Great. Nobody's responded to it, have they?"

Lights flickered in the darkness of Red's eyes as he scanned his database. "Data indicates that the holder of the tracker is on the move. Their current path suggests that they are headed this way."

" _What_?" Lawrence's jaw dropped. "W-well, turn the signal off! What part of 'I don't want anyone finding me' have you failed to comprehend, dude?"

Red's eyes drifted away again. "Only the person wielding the tracker can deactivate it."

Lawrence snarled through gritted teeth and ripped his watch off in one fumbling motion. Both his doubles let out noises of protest as he dropped the device into the snow and took several steps away from it.

"I can't go back," he said, anger giving way to sadness. "Not to Helios, not to Sanctuary. I'm too dangerous. I'm sorry."

"No!" Blue yelled, voice distorting with emotion. "Bad! Sit! Stay! _Stay_ , boss! Please!"

"I'm sorry," Lawrence said again, turning away. He started walking the length of the gorge, trying and failing not to hear the distinct sound of his doubles attempting to move after him, only to disappear and reappear back by the watch as their proximity limit was reached.

"Boss!" Blue was still yelling desperately. His words were stressed and drawn out, a result of him trying to form legitimate statements. "Please...don't! Leave! Us!"

Lawrence realized he was still mumbling "I'm sorry" under his breath about the same time he noticed he was crying again. Each step got harder and harder to make, until finally his legs just refused to move forward anymore.

A broken sob escaped him as he turned halfway to peer over his shoulder. Red had given up and was just standing by the watch, eyes wide and face slack with disbelief and hurt. Blue shed more than enough emotion for the two of them as he kept running forward, arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to reunite himself with his boss. The second he got more than fifty feet away from the device, his body vanished in a burst of digital particles and reappeared next to Red. But he didn't give up. He launched himself again, still babbling semi-coherent pleas. It broke Lawrence's damn heart.

His resolution crumbled. With a cry, Lawrence scrambled back to the watch and scooped it out of the snow. He cradled it to his cheek, not caring that the cold metal was burning his flesh. Blue let out an awful, wet noise as he leaned in to nuzzle his face along the device, sending sparks down Lawrence's frame. It was the closest he would ever get to hugging his doubles.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll never do that again," Lawrence babbled in between hiccups. "I'm so stupid right now, I'm sorry."

Blue whimpered and touched his hands to the watch, sending another jolt through Lawrence's cheek. "Sorry water salt unwelcome," he said quietly. "Scrambled eggs in head bones."

Lawrence sniffed. "Something like that."

"I'll deactivate myself," Red murmured from above them. "Let Blue continue to serve you, sir. It wouldn't be fair to keep him locked away as well."

Lawrence shook his head as he put the watch back on with a shaking hand. Both of his doubles instantly relaxed as soon as the latch was clasped tightly shut. "I need you. Both of you. We'll figure something out."

Red looked up at the horizon. "My signal strength is weak in general. It isn't meant to be used over such long distances," he said, narrowing his gaze. "If we can find somewhere underground to relocate, the signal should be too weak for anyone to trace. It might give you the chance to figure out a course of action, perhaps even find a way to deactivate the signal."

Lawrence dragged his sleeve across his face and nodded. "I like that plan. But there's still the trouble of getting across this stupid chasm. It’ll take too long to get around it."

"Commence again the flapping speed," Blue suggested.

Lawrence arched a brow at him. In his emotional state of disarray, there was no hope of him even beginning to translate half of the muddled stuff coming out of his normal-sized double, so he turned that arched brow on Red.

"Blue is suggesting you teleport yourself again."

"Sure, because that worked out so well last time."

"Did it not?"

Lawrence blinked up at his doubles. They were right, but still: "I don't know how to do that."

"And you will continue to remain clueless about your powers until you start to experiment with them." Red cocked a transparent brow in a silent challenge.

Lawrence squinted up at him before he sighed in acceptance. "Fine," he grumbled as he rose to his feet. "But if I turn myself inside out or something by accident, I'm gonna blame you."

"Duly noted, sir."

"Smartass," Lawrence said, snorting. "You got any suggestions on where I can fling myself?"

The hologram turned its head. "My sensors indicate a large, cavernous formation twenty klicks into the valley."

"I'm an English major, not an army grunt, dude! Speak my language!"

For someone who wasn't programmed to display much emotion, the look Red sent him probably would have set him on fire. He extended a long finger towards the west without breaking his icy eye-contact with his boss. "Aim that way," he said, somehow managing to make his tone flatter than usual.

Lawrence swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay," he muttered, rubbing his hands together. "Okay. I can do that. I mean, maybe."

Blue clapped his holographic hands. "Get good with the flapping!”

"Blue believes in you," Red translated. His gaze became less severe. "As do I, sir. Good luck."

Lawrence forced a smile on his face. He only wished he could share their optimism.

He sent his doubles away and fixed his eyes on the spot Red had pointed out on the horizon. It had been fear and a deep desire to run that had allowed him to fly or teleport or whatever the hell he'd done. He wasn't afraid at the moment, but the desire to move was certainly present. Night was coming. He _had_ to get off this mountain.

He felt raw energy bubbling beneath his skin the harder he focused on the point in the distance. The ball inside his chest was scrabbling to escape; it clawed against his rib cage until finally it burst free, jerking Lawrence forward in a surge that made his ears pop and his skin pimple with gooseflesh.

The ground vanished beneath his feet for a second and reappeared quite violently against his shoulder as he slammed into it. He had no time to react to the shock of pain; his body jerked again, but not because he was teleporting. Wherever he'd landed was sloped, and he was currently tumbling head over heels down the side of it.

It was only because his coat got snagged on a piece of rough metal that he managed to stop. Dizzy, wounded, and about to puke, Lawrence had no choice but to curl up by the chunk of busted metal and keep his eyes shut for a long time as his body healed itself. The breeze, nowhere near as cold or as biting as it had been up in the mountains, was still pretty consistent and helped tame his wayward stomach and cool the sweat on his brow.

Finally, Lawrence opened his eyes. He was struck dumb at the sight before him. He was lying on the sloped, steel-plated rim of a gigantic hole in the ground. The remnants of buildings curled around the top of the rim, some of them vaguely familiar in terms of construction and color. Old mining equipment, Dahl-based, also hung about in rusting, hazardous chunks.

Despite his growing fear, Lawrence couldn't help but turn his gaze to the jagged, gaping maw a few hundred feet below him. It was a far contrast to the relatively smooth rim surrounding it. The sunlight only illuminated so much of the cavern; he couldn't see the bottom of it from his current position.

"Wh-what the hell is this?" he asked breathlessly, fumbling for his watch. "Where are we?"

"The Caustic Caverns," Red replied as he and Blue flickered into existence. "They used to be the prime location for Dahl’s mining operations before they abandoned the planet. Dahl's mining ship, the city you know as Sanctuary, used to be stationed here until as of recently."

Lawrence huffed. That explained all of the ruined buildings and mechanical doodads clustered around the edge of the rim, but what were the odds he'd find Sanctuary's original resting place all the way out here? Someone was taunting him.

"Lemme guess," he groused, "the Caustic Caverns are filled with corrosive pools."

Red nodded. "I'm detecting multiple forms of enemies as well, including but not limited to spiderants, threshers and varkids."

Lawrence sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Is it worth it? Will your signal be cut off from down there?"

"Yes."

"Right then."

Lawrence took a deep breath and began to scoot his way down the rim. He was thankful that the whole structure was rusted and crappy in the majority of places, as it allowed him to grab onto the surface and lower himself down at his own pace. A few paces down he also found a ratty old Bandit-brand pistol in the remains of a cardboard box that had slipped down into the rim. He stuck the pistol into the empty holster at his thigh, grateful for the small find. At least now he could defend himself if need be.

"Why are you doing that?" Red asked suddenly, nearly causing Lawrence to loose his grip on a piece of rebar. He'd forgotten his doubles were still there, hovering harmlessly on either side of him as he made his descent.

"Doing what?"

"You are talking to yourself as you descend. Why?"

Lawrence hadn't even noticed, but now that he thought about it, he realized that he had been mumbling shit like "You can do this" and "Just a little further" while he moved.

"I dunno," he grunted, skittering down another couple feet before he snagged a loose piece of metal sheeting. It bit into his fingers, but the cuts healed before they could even start bleeding. "Because I'm scared, probably. I don't like heights."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I've always been afraid of them."

"And talking to yourself helps calm you?"

"Kinda." Lawrence sent his doubles a wry look. "Unless you two want to offer words of encouragement, I kinda don't have a choice but to do it myself."

Blue leaned forward and shouted, "Do things! Do all the things with the feet-hand flesh! Get good at the things!"

"What he said," Red agreed.

Lawrence grinned. "Good enough," he said, wedging the heel of his boot into the next available foothold. He could see past the edge of the rim now, but all that greeted him beyond the first couple dozen feet was darkness. His gut twisted with apprehension, causing his motions to cease for a second.

"You can do it, sir," Red offered in all his emotionless fervor. "Don't look down. The odds of the entire structure collapsing due to age, decay, and your added weight are only at twenty-three percent. Are my statements and suggestions helping you, sir?"

The fact scared him a little, but Lawrence still managed to laugh. "Yes, Red, thank you. Both of you." He flashed them a wide grin and scooted his ass down another half dozen feet. He was thankful he wasn't alone, even if his companions weren't what he'd call normal. 

Of course, the second Lawrence thought he just might be okay, the old and rusted metal sheet his ass was planted on decided to come loose and send him flying down the side of the gorge. His hands scrabbled for purchase on anything, but his fingers slipped through thin air as the edge of the rim flew past him.

He hit the side of the cavern some hundred yards later as it curved inwards. His arm and hip shattered in probably a billion places, and a moment later, as he finally collided with the rocky, uneven ground of the crater, he felt his spine snap in two. His crumpled, broken body tumbled violently to a halt a few yards from the initial impact zone, leaving him gaping open-mouthed at the crystal-clear sky through the mouth of the cavern.

"Ow," he wheezed.

"Boss," came Blue's frantic cry from somewhere next to him. Lawrence couldn't turn his head to see where. "Boss, the broken things! The broken things!"

"Severe spinal injury," Red was mumbling, sounding a tad frantic himself. "Clavicle fracture, broken hip, and a shattered ulna and radius in his left arm. Liver, kidneys, and colon partially liquefied. Concussion in progress. Status: not well." The double paused, and when he spoke again, he sounded farther away. "Approaching enemies to the south. Stand by for combat."

"Do I look capable of fighting?" Lawrence wanted to say, but all he could spit out was a pained groan from between his clenched teeth. A part of him was glad for the spinal injury - he couldn't feel anything at the moment - but on the other hand, he couldn't so much as lift a finger let alone drag himself to safety while his doubles duke it out with whatever was coming for him.

He could hear Red getting ready to hurl his fireballs at whatever was attempting to attack them, but most of his attention was focused on the fact that, very slowly, he could feel his spine knitting back together. His chest felt warm; as he predicted, the Eridium still in his system was taking care of his major wounds again.

With a god-awful snap, Lawrence could feel again, starting with the utter agony that wracked his entire body. A scream lodged itself in his throat, leaving him shaking and whimpering in the dirt.

"Boss," Blue was practically wailing.

Lawrence gritted his teeth. "Status...update..." he gasped.

Red stopped powering up his fireballs long enough to report, "Organs healed. Spinal injury, hip, and clavicle nearly repaired. Can you move yet, sir?"

"Trying." Lawrence wiggled his fingers and almost squealed at the pain it caused his broken arm. His other arm, while bruised to hell and back, finally decided to obey him and began to push the rest of his body into a sitting position.

He made it halfway up before his body gave out on him, leaving him lying on his side in a tangled, broken heap. Through the dark haze that was settling in on his vision, he made out a huge, shining creature slowly making its way towards them. Its footsteps shook the earth.

"Open fire," he rasped to his doubles.

"Boss," Blue said, lowering his arms.

"No threats detected," Red reported.

As the hulking creature came to a stop practically above him, Lawrence's eyes drifted shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	44. Chapter 44

Lawrence awoke to find himself staring up at the gritty ceiling of a Dahl shipping container. For one brief, horrifying second, he thought he was back on Elpis after having been launched through the moonshot cannon in a goddamn metal box. He half expected to hear Janey Springs knocking on the door of the container telling him that he was going to die.

Then he remembered quite suddenly the beating he got courtesy of some cheap-ass metal sheeting on the rim of a cavern. Thanks, Dahl.

His attention slowly turned to his aching body. He wiggled his toes without issue, save for a small twinge in his hip, and his right arm and fingers moved fine beneath the thick blanket that was tucked up to his chin. His left arm, however, was heavily bound where it lay over his stomach and hurt like the dickens when he tried to move it.

He brought his uninjured arm out and stared at his fingers. They were hardly glowing anymore, he noted, swallowing thickly. Probably why his arm still hurt the way it did. He was out of juice. Would he start going into withdrawal again? Just fall asleep and never wake up?

"You awake?" came a male voice from beside him.

With a little difficulty, Lawrence turned his head to blink wearily up at the middle-aged man slowly lowering himself down into the chair that was set up next to his bedside. The man cracked a smile; he had all his teeth and they were in decent condition, so he must not be a bandit, Lawrence reasoned. Hell, he probably wasn't even from Pandora. His clothes were worn and dirty, but Lawrence recognized the tailoring before he noticed the faded Hyperion logo on the left breast pocket of his shirt.

"Get away from me," he blurted, trying and failing to jerk away from the man. A stabbing pain in his hip kept him hissing through his teeth and curling in on himself with his good arm.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, fella," the man said gently, holding his hands up in a placating manner. "I'm not gonna hurt you, and I'm not with Hyperion anymore, so stop looking like I'm gonna turn you in for whatever crimes you're on the run for."

"I didn't do anything," Lawrence snapped. "Who are you? Where have you taken me?"

"Name's Keith Sanders," the man said, lowering his hands slowly. "And my boys brought you in, not me. Said you took a nasty tumble from the rim. It's a miracle you survived, son. Nobody falls in here and crawls away with nothing more than a couple of bruises and a broken arm."

Lawrence sighed through his teeth. Great. He couldn't stay here, not if there were innocent people living in the caverns. He'd have to plot a course for somewhere else, somewhere underground and isolated.

A woman appeared around the break in the wall carrying a can full of something steaming. "Keith, I brought some soup - oh, he's awake," she said, blinking her large brown eyes in surprise.

Lawrence attempted to rear back again at the sight of her tattered, faded Hyperion garb, but Keith raised his hand to signal his wife to stay by the door.

"Our friend's a little skittish around Hyperion personnel," he explained. He flashed Lawrence a small, tired smile. "Really, I don't blame you, son."

The woman pursed her lips and took a half-step back. "Is he one of those escaped experiments from the preserve?"

"Moira," Keith hissed.

"What? I'm concerned for the boys, Keith."

As the couple started to argue, Lawrence turned his gaze to his wrist on his broken arm and gritted his teeth when he noticed that his watch was gone. It had been on him after he'd eaten shit on the floor of the cavern, so either these people took it off to wrap his arm or he had lost it somewhere while he had been unconscious. He hoped it was the former, because the chance of him having dropped it into a caustic pool somewhere along the way was extremely high.

"You've seen what happens to those people who go into the preserve," Moira was in the middle of saying angrily. "I know the creatures seemed to think he was okay around the boys, but we can't take chances."

"Moira, he's not - "

Her gaze snapped to Lawrence, who resisted the urge to flinch under her wild glare. "What's your story, sir?"

"I was hired to be a body double for Handsome Jack several years ago, before he was Handsome Jack," he answered. "You can't really tell now, but I looked just like him once. Then, well, shit happened," he gestured to his face, "and now I'm running from Hyperion. That's all."

"I thought you looked a tad familiar," Keith admitted. "I don't like judging people right off the bat, though." He shot Moira a small glare, which she returned tenfold.

"You should've judged me," Lawrence said, wincing as he struggled to throw his legs over the side of the cot. "Thanks for your help, but I really gotta be going - "

"Hold on there," Keith said quickly, "how do you expect to climb out of here with your arm like that? You've got bruises for days -"

"What part of 'I'm being hunted by the most powerful corporation on this side of the galaxy' did you not understand?" Lawrence snapped. "I appreciate your kindness, but for your own safety, I have to leave."

Keith cracked a sad smile. "Son, why do you think I packed up my family and dragged us all into this hellhole? We're in the same boat as you."

At once Lawrence felt all the tension and anxiety whoosh out of him, leaving him dizzy and deflated. "Oh," he muttered lamely. "You were screwed over by Hyperion, too?"

"Handsome Jack," Keith corrected. "I used to work for him back when Opportunity was still under construction. I was supposed to get the word out about the city and attract all the wealthy folks Jack was so intent on having live there, but there were a lot of problems with it - no surprise there - and when I pointed them out, he threatened to kill my children." The older man shook his head and shuddered. "I'd been working for the man long enough to know a jest from a joust, so as soon as I could, I got us all off of Helios and down here. It...it hasn't been easy on any of us."

Keith's brow creased as he glanced at Moira, who nodded slightly from where she now leaned against the wall. The soup can dangling from her long fingers as she stared sadly down at the dirty floor.

"As awful as it is," she began quietly, "the safety of our children has to come first. And we _are_ safe here. Those crystal creatures love the boys and protect them, probably better than we ever could. It's rough, but we're making do."

"At least until the food supply runs out," Keith said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "We've got a year or so to go, I wager, if we're careful. Then we'll start worrying. For now, how 'bout you get some of this soup into that skinny frame of yours?" He accepted the can of soup from his wife and held it out for him. "It's not the best in terms of flavor, but it'll fill you up."

Lawrence eyed the husband and wife. Their faces were pale and gaunt, and when he looked down at the can of soup Keith was holding out to him, he didn't miss the trembling in the man's arms.

"I don't need food," Lawrence said stiffly, turning his gaze from the can to the man's hopeful face. "Save your supplies."

Keith hummed, not surprised, and passed the can back to his wife. "Well, is there anything we can do for you?" he asked instead.

Lawrence opened his mouth, but a clamoring from outside cut him off. Two boys, one probably about to enter his teens and one maybe about the Kid's age, appeared in the doorway, bubbling with excitement. The older one froze when he saw that Lawrence was awake. The younger one was wielding his watch like a gun and made little "pew-pew-pew" noises at Lawrence until his father jumped up.

"Joshua! Give me that!" Keith demanded, holding out his hand. The kid hastily handed the watch over, eyes wide with surprise. The older man sent his son a weak glare before turning and handing the watch out to Lawrence. "Sorry. Had to take this off of you to get to your arm. Hope it's not broken."

"Thanks," Lawrence breathed, accepting the familiar cold metal. Without thinking, he brought the watch to his cheek. He wasn't sure if Red or Blue could even feel it - probably not, the rational part of his mind told him - but it was comforting to know that they hadn’t been melted into nothing at the bottom of a caustic pool.

He came back to himself and noticed everyone's stares. "They're...valuable," he explained lamely.

"They?" Keith offered up a weak laugh and patted him gently on the leg. "Son, maybe you should take a nap. There's only one digistruct watch you got there."

"I meant..." Lawrence puffed out his cheeks in a pout as he put the watch onto his lap and summoned his doubles with his good hand. They flickered to life next to the bed. Blue looked ecstatic to see him, as usual, and Red tilted his head down at him in a nod of acknowledgement.

"Keith...!" Moira cried, moving to stand in front of her star-struck sons. The man was already up and backpedaling towards his family, his wide, frightened eyes focused on the doubles. Most people would be startled by them, but there was outright fear shining in these people's eyes. And of course there would be, Lawrence realized suddenly; they knew what these Hyperion-designed digital doubles could do to a man.

"They won't hurt any of you," he swore quickly. "Not unless I tell them to."

"Protocol forbids us from harming children," Red informed them all. "Gaige installed that as well."

Lawrence sent him a wild-eyed look. "That wasn't a thing before?"

Blue shook his head while Red merely arched a digital brow at him, as if to say "duh." He worked for one of the sickest people who lived, after all. He shouldn't be surprised.

Keith tilted his head. "They can speak?" he asked, stunned. "They're - they're sentient? How? It goes against Hyperion regulation to modify digistructs in any way unless you've gotten a permit."

Lawrence shrugged. "Fuck Hyperion." He flinched, remembering the kids, and tacked on a quick, "Sorry. Uh. That's a grown-up word. Don't use it."

Joshua, the younger boy, nodded his head sagely, while his older brother remained silent and staring through wide eyes at Lawrence. He didn't seem to share the same fear that his parents had in that moment.

"My sons, Joshua and Nathan," Keith said quietly, gesturing to each child. He put his hand on Joshua's head, a silent apology for snapping at him earlier. The boy grinned up at him and batted his hand away with a small giggle.

"Nice to meet you." Lawrence cleared his throat. "Can I, uh, go outside? Get some fresh air? 'Cos no offense, but this place stinks like garbage and it's giving me a headache."

"Well, we did make our temporary home in a bunch of Dahl shipping containers on top of a trash heap," Keith said, chuckling. "But sure, go ahead and take a look. Get your bearings, maybe. Just mind your step."

Lawrence nodded, grateful, and went to stand up a little too quickly. His hip protested, enough so that he choked on a noise of pain and almost collapsed.

"Careful!" Keith exclaimed, moving to catch his arm before he crumpled into a pathetic pile at the foot of the bed. "Here, let me."

Lawrence bit back any protests as the man threw his arm around his shoulders and coiled his own arm around Lawrence's side, mindful not to touch his hip. The boys scattered and Moira moved aside to let them past. Lawrence didn't miss the woman's sharp gaze on him as they shuffled past her.

As Keith helped him out of the room, he noted that the hallway was comprised of another shipping container, and that several others were attached to the opposite wall to make separate rooms. Lawrence wondered if Keith and his family managed to do this, or if luck had played a part in finding a pre-made house.

The door of the container provided a ramp for them to cautiously walk down. Lawrence hissed as his hip twinged in protest, but he became distracted soon enough by the sight before him.

They were situated on top of a mammoth pile of trash, which certainly explained the smell. Behind them loomed the twisted, burnt-out remains of a Dahl trash transport ship that had apparently vomited up all of the garbage beneath their feet, if its open, mostly empty cargo hold was any indication. The trash ship gave the little shipping container bungalow some added shelter, and probably the tools to move the containers together in the first place.

As for the trash pile itself, its only redeeming feature was that it was up high, giving them a rather awesome view of a good portion of the caverns below in all their caustic, extremely dangerous glory. Lawrence could see varkids and those crystal thingies moving as they went about their business. None of them seemed to realize they were being watched from afar.

He turned his gaze upwards and frowned up at the jagged mouth of the cavern that seemed to be miles up. Sunlight poured in, but it dimmed before it could really illuminate anything other than the very tops of the huge Dahl machinery and building remains that were nothing but melted shells at this point. The only light came from the caustic pools, a vibrant greenish-yellow that hurt Lawrence's eyes if he gazed at them for too long.

"Home sweet home," Keith mused wryly.

"It's hideous," Lawrence confirmed. "But...it's also kind of pretty, in a sad, dystopian kinda way."

Keith chuckled. "Just don't touch anything," he said. "If it doesn't dissolve your skin, it'll probably cut you up real good."

Lawrence hummed and glanced over his shoulder. His doubles were still behind him, as loyal as a pair of digital men could be. Lawrence turned to Red and asked quietly, "Is there anywhere else we can go?"

"Unfortunately, in addition to muffling my distress signal to the outside world, these caverns make it hard for me to access the ECHO net," Red reported. "We would need to get closer to the surface if I am to attempt a connection."

And with his busted arm and throbbing hip, that was out of the question for the time being. Lawrence heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his face. "Looks like we're hanging out here for a while then," he said.

"We don't mind the extra company," Keith spoke up, almost a little too quickly. "To tell you the truth, we could use something new around here to break up the monotony."

Lawrence knew that was code for "I love my family, but holy shit, being with them like this for so long is starting to drive me bonkers," which was something Lawrence could completely understand.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you need to be underground?" Keith gnawed on his lip. "Did Jack stick a tracker in you at some point?"

Lawrence shook his head. "Not that I know of. I'm trying to avoid some other people on top of Hyperion," he explained awkwardly. "One of them's the person who made Red and Blue sentient. She also installed an emergency beacon in their programming that automatically activates if I'm in danger, which I was earlier. The signal's strength gets weaker when we're underground."

"These people...are they your friends?"

"Yes. They're decent people, and they don't want to hurt me, but...I can't go back with them. Not...not now, not yet."

Keith hummed. "I understand. If you want, I can try to take a look at their coding," he said, nodding towards the watch Lawrence had half hanging out of his pocket. "Before I worked for Jack, I had an internship with the section of Hyperion’s engineering department that worked exclusively with writing the codes for digital structures.”

Lawrence's brows shot up. "Really? It'd be awesome if you could deactivate the distress beacon without messing up any of their coding."

"I'll see what I can do."

Lawrence pulled the watch out of his pocket and fixed a steely look on the older man. When he spoke, though, he addressed Red. "Shoot him if he starts tinkering with stuff he shouldn't."

"Yes, sir."

Keith paled about seven shades and held his hands up in surrender. "I-I won't. L-look, I'm trusting you around my family. The least you can do is trust me with your digital doubles."

"They're my friends," Lawrence told him, easing off with the glaring. "They’re all I’ve got at this point, so...just...be careful with them, okay?"

The man nodded and gingerly took the device out of Lawrence's grasp. He peered at it as he turned it over in his hand. "Oh, good, this is an older model," he noted. "I can probably work with this. Might take some time, though."

"Well, I am stuck here," Lawrence reminded him, half distracted by the sudden roaring that filled the area.

From their position high up on the slope of trash and debris, Lawrence could see Keith's boys roughhousing with one of the crystal rock creatures that roamed the caverns. Lawrence had never seen one before. Witnessing something so gentle on this planet just seemed...strange. Not even humans could be considered docile creatures on Pandora.

"What are they?" Lawrence asked quietly.

Keith glanced up from the watch and followed his gaze. "We're not quite sure," he replied. "The boys found an ECHO recorder a few days after we first got here that called them crystalisks, I think. They were harmless until Dahl's mining operations turned to harvesting the crystals growing on them. Now they're pretty wary around us grownups. Love the kids, though, which I suppose is the only reason why they haven't gone rampant on us yet."

Lawrence hummed thoughtfully and watched as Joshua scrambled on top of the creature and blew a raspberry at his older brother, who hurled dirt clods in response until one beaned the creature in the face. The crystalisk growled loudly and shook itself, sending Joshua tumbling into his brother's arms. Both boys squealed and yelped, but the creature made no move to flatten them with one of its giant, thick feet and instead began to retreat down the hill, still grumbling like an old man too tired to be dealing with a pair of rambunctious kids.

"Don't go, Shiny!" Joshua howled, reaching dramatically for his friend. He shoved Nathan back into the dirt and took off after the creature, partially fleeing in terror from his ensuing brother.

"That's also why we took that pistol of yours," Keith continued. "I was afraid the sight of it would set them off."

Startled, Lawrence reached for the holster on his leg and indeed found it empty. Well, damn. He definitely wasn't winning any awards for being observant. If Athena were here, she would've clocked him for being so careless.

"It's in the house," Keith assured him. "You can have it back when you decide to leave. I know how important a gun is to a vault hunter."

Lawrence jerked at the accusation. "I'm not a vault hunter," he blurted.

Keith sent him a curious look, but didn't prod him for more info, for which Lawrence was grateful for. As glad as he was to have sane, non-threatening people to talk to again, there were some things he wasn't willing to discuss, mostly because he doubted they would understand and attempting to explain it would just bring him grief.

The man went back inside, mumbling about needing tools, leaving Lawrence to his own morbid thoughts.

A shadow eventually fell over him. He looked up and found Shiny looming over him, much like he had on their first encounter, only this time, he was able to make out the children sitting atop the poor creature. He offered them a weak smile, too distracted by the crystalisk to really give them much of his attention.

The creature lunged suddenly, giving Lawrence no choice but to fall flat on the ground beneath it. It pinned him with two massive feet framing his shaking body and leaned in close, so close that Lawrence could see his reflection in its beady eyes.

"Wh-what's it doing?" he squeaked, trying to catch a glimpse of the two boys perched calmly on top of the crystalisk.

"Makin’ sure you're not a bad guy," the younger boy answered, voice muffled by the fingers he had stuffed in his mouth.

Lawrence forced himself to lie still as the crystalisk continued to assess him. A minute later the creature reached a conclusion, gave a satisfactory huff in Lawrence's face, and took two steps back, allowing him to tentatively sit up. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, but it was nice to know that this big guy didn't seem him as a villain. Animals were cool like that.

"Does he bite?" Lawrence asked as he slowly lifted his good hand, palm up, for the crystalisk to sniff.

"No," the older boy, Nathan, said. "Shiny doesn't have a mouth."

"Oh."

Shiny leaned down and gave Lawrence's hand a good whiff, nudging it with his massive, pointy face, before deeming Lawrence worthy enough to be in his and the boys' presence. Lawrence took another bold chance and laid his hand on the cystalisk's snout before he could retreat completely. Instead of rage, he was met with a rumbling noise that sounded all too cat-like. Encouraged, Lawrence began to pet Shiny, earning an even louder purr as the creature inched closer to him, seeking more attention.

"What a handsome creature you are," Lawrence cooed, grinning.

Remembering himself, he cleared his throat just as Shiny straightened up and tried to play off the purring and nuzzling as nothing. He began to slowly turn around and make his way down the trash pile. The two boys on his back scrambled to hop off before their friend sank into the dirt with a contented rumble that Lawrence felt in his chest.

The two kids stood awkwardly in front of him, the younger hiding behind his brother's legs and peering at Lawrence like he was this terrible, awful puzzle he just couldn't figure out.

"Well?" Lawrence said finally when the boys made no other moves to acknowledge him. "I'm sure you've got questions. I've got nothing better to do."

"Are you really a vault hunter?" Nathan blurted, failing hard at hiding his curiosity.

"I was," Lawrence admitted.

"Cool. I wanna be one when I grow up."

"No you don't. It's hard and people are constantly trying to kill you."

Nathan shrugged. "Isn't that just life on Pandora though?"

Lawrence opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again to say, "You're not wrong. But you should still try to do something useful with your life. Like...become a scientist or an engineer."

"For who? Hyperion?" The pre-teen snorted and kicked at a wad of trash. "Yeah, sure, I'll get right on that as soon as they stop trying to kill us."

"What happened to your face?" Joshua asked suddenly.

The elder brother shoved the younger, making him squeal with pain and send him a hurt, confused look as he rubbed his ribs.

"Don't be rude, Josh!" Nathan snapped.

"I wasn't...!"

Lawrence frowned and instinctively touched one corner of the brand that sloped over his cheekbone. "A very bad man did this to me," he answered after a small pause.

The two boys looked at him, surprised. "The same man Dad says we're hiding from?" Nathan guessed.

Lawrence nodded. "Your dad was right to grab you and your mom and run away. I know it's boring and dark down here, but the man who did this to me was a terrible guy and he would've hurt all of you if you'd stayed on Helios."

Joshua's eyes were huge. "He would've done that to us?" he exclaimed, pointing at Lawrence's face.

"Maybe. Probably worse."

"Worse," Joshua echoed softly, shifting his gaze to the clod of dirt he was currently mashing.

"But that guy's dead now, right? We can go back home," Nathan said.

"Someday I'm sure. Your parents are just being careful." Lawrence glanced over at the snoozing crystalisk and cracked a smile. "Besides, if you leave here, you'll have to leave your friends. And that's no fun.” His smile faded. “Trust me."

Joshua, clearly not realizing that would be a thing to consider, gave a horrified gasp and launched himself onto Shiny, who grumbled in his sleep and attempted to burrow deeper into the dirt with a wailing child clinging to the crystals on his back.

Lawrence watched, thin-lipped with regret, and felt his yearning for home increase tenfold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	45. Chapter 45

The next several days passed with maddening sluggishness. There was literally nothing for Lawrence to do while his arm and hip slowly healed. He’d walk around the base of the trash mountain in search of Eridium, to no avail. He observed Keith tinker away at his watch. He attempted to assist Moira in the kitchen - which, really, didn't help anyone out at all unless he was simply counting and recounting the preserves. Sometimes he'd sit outside and just watch the cavern below them, teeming with life yet still radiating that barren, tomb-like feeling.

He felt trapped. His skin itched with the desire to keep on moving, to leave before someone else found him - and the Sanders family as well.

Dimly, he knew that a portion of this itchy feeling came from the fact that he was basically bled dry of his Eridium power. The tingling sensation in the back of his skull reminded him quite frequently of how much he wanted to find a chunk of the damn thing, even just a pebble-sized piece, just so he'd have something in his system that wasn’t devoted to simply keeping him conscious. Just so his goddamned arm healed faster so he could get the hell out of his hole!

Lawrence grunted as Nathan and Joshua bumped past him as they sped down the hallway, giggling and carrying on like the children they were. Joshua paused for a second to utter a shy apology before he disappeared out the door with his brother.

Lawrence envied their carefree energy. He had been like that once, a freckle-faced boy running through the cornfields of his father's farm with a sibling or two attempting to keep up. Maggie had been the fastest, even at her young age. She always managed to catch him.

"No running in the house!" Moira called after her boys, startling Lawrence from his memories. "Sorry about them."

"They're fine," Lawrence assured her with a tired smile. "They're bored, and I'm just...old."

The boys weren't as much of a bother as Lawrence had expected them to be. Sometimes he'd catch them staring at him through the doorway of his own "bedroom" that Keith had graciously given him. Joshua seemed fascinated by his faded markings. Nathan still asked him questions about his vault hunting career, but Lawrence kept his answers clipped and to the point, which eventually deterred the kid from bringing his past up.

"Aren't we all," Moira replied. She was still stiff and cold towards him, but it was a far cry from how she'd been the first two days of his stay. "Help me with dinner?"

He agreed out of boredom. The kitchen was just another shipping container with a hole punched through the roof to let smoke from the camping stove out. An attempt had been made to spruce the place up into something resembling a kitchen; aside from the cheap little stove, Keith had turned a Hyperion loot box and a piece of plywood into a small table. The food, which was really just cans of non-perishables and bunches of MREs, were stacked neatly throughout three decent-sized Dahl loot chests. Lawrence had spent time going through them all and organizing them into piles based on expiration dates.

Moira had a can of spam cooking on the camp stove - the usual, Lawrence had quickly learned. They saved the MREs for days when spam and baked beans just didn't give them the energy they needed to make it through the day to the next one.

She handed him a spoon to poke at the can's contents every now and then. Lawrence didn't know a damn thing about cooking, so Moira kept it simple for him.

"My sister spoke highly of you," she said after a while.

Lawrence shot her a confused glance. "Sister?"

"Joanne. Worked as Handsome Jack's secretary for a few years before he killed her."

"Jo - " He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as the memory of the kind, middle-aged woman flicked through his head. Sorrow burrowed deeply into his chest when he heard the other half of Moira's statement. "She's - oh, that bastard. Why? What happened?"

Moira shrugged stiffly as she set five plates - just pieces of metal with edges that curved slightly - onto the table. "Never got a clear answer from anyone," she said. "I know she did her job well, so that clearly wasn't the issue. Rumor has it Jack got bored with her and shot her out an airlock. Another rumor was that she wasn't young enough for his tastes, so instead of firing her like any sane - if terrible - human being would, he murdered her. I don't know. But she's gone."

"I'm sorry." Lawrence shook his head as rage for his long-dead boss bubbled beneath his skin. "Joanne was a great woman. She helped me out a few times, was always nice to me when I was having a bad day. Which was really every day. I'm sorry. She didn't deserve to die."

"She didn't."

Lawrence shot her a quick glance. "It was very brave, what you and your husband did,” he offered, trying to change the subject to a more uplifting one.

She shrugged, but a pleased blush was turning her cheeks pink. "Well, this place wasn't the destination we had in mind when we snuck down here,” she admitted. “We were trying to make our way to the nearest semi-sane town when bandits raided the caravan and chased us down here. They would have killed us if those creatures hadn't intervened.”

“You’re lucky. Most creatures on this planet wouldn’t have been so kind - aw, fuck!” he yelled, leaping back as some hot spam lept out of the can and splattered along the floor at his feet. “Shit, sorry, I - “

“Watch your mouth in my house,” Moira snapped, shooing him out before he could screw up something else.

He headed outside and was content to sit down by the door and watch Keith's boys play. They were running around on a lower level of the trash heap, each wielding hunks of garbage that vaguely resembled the shape of a gun. Judging by the noises they were making, Joshua had a pistol and Nathan was brandishing a shotgun.

"Die!" Nathan wailed, taking another shot at his little brother.

"Noo! You can't kill me! I'm'a vault hunter!" Joshua yelled back, throwing his "pistol" at Nathan. A Tediore pistol, then, if the vaguely-sounding explosion noise Joshua made a second later was any indication. "Boom! You're dead!"

Nathan made a gurgling noise as he collapsed onto his knees. "You got me! I could never kill someone as cool as you, vault hunter! You're a hero!" He waved his arms in one last dramatic death-spasm and collapsed face-first into the muck, only to jerk up with a disgruntled, "Ew, gross!"

Joshua burst into a giggling fit until his older brother picked himself off the ground and flung some muck into his general direction. “Eww!” he squealed, still laughing.

"Your turn to be Handsome Jack," Nathan told him, instantly turning his little brother’s giggles into outrage.

"I don't wanna!" Joshua shrieked, pouting. "I'm'a vault hunter!"

"You _always_ get to be the vault hunter, Josh! It's my turn!"

"No!"

" _Josh_!"

Lawrence frowned as the kids continued to squabble. They had no idea what they were talking about. The only thing they'd probably ever heard about vault hunters were that they killed “bad guys” and found lots of treasure.

Keith came out of the house a few minutes later and flashed him a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Taking in the sights or trying to get away from Moira's cooking?" he joked.

Lawrence managed to offer the man half a smirk, but said nothing else.

"Something wrong?"

"Your kids think vault hunters are heroes," he mumbled.

Keith arched a brow. "Aren't they?"

Lawrence snorted. "I never felt like one. What's so heroic about killing hundreds of thousands of people for the sake of finding a buttload of treasure - which, more often than not, turns out to be more dangerous than it is valuable. We're not heroes, we're just...greedy thugs who're good at killing people."

"Is that you or Handsome Jack talking?"

Lawrence's mouth clacked shut as a combination of emotions bombarded him at once. Before he could force down the fear and sadness and settle with getting angry, the older man offered him a gentle smile and a pat on the arm.

"I was on Helios when the Lost Legion attacked," he began, easily quelling Lawrence's rage. "Picked a bad time for a visit. A bunch of us holed up in a portion of the station that the Legion never found out about thanks to you folks running around on the lower levels causing problems for them. There were monitors we could use to see what was happening on the rest of the station. I remember watching and thinking that you lot were our heroes, that with each Dahl soldier you killed, we were one step closer to being rescued. We weren't wrong."

Lawrence lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know there was anyone left still alive on board. We could've done something - "

Keith waved him off. "We had food and supplies. We were fine. My point is, you can be one person's hero and someone else's arch enemy. Handsome Jack was practically a god on Helios, but on Pandora, he might as well have been a plague wiping out all life as we know it. Likewise, he painted vault hunters as bandit scum, whereas most of the semi-sane residents on Pandora saw them as saviors. I've yet to see evidence that one side has been more right than the other, honestly."

Lawrence nodded in understanding. "It seems like there's no good guys on this side of the galaxy," he mumbled. "Though I think everyone agrees that Handsome Jack was the farthest from being good."

Keith cracked a smile. "Oh yes. Any man that threatens another man's children is as far from good as he can get, in my humble opinion."

The shrieking of said children dragged Lawrence's attention away from Keith. The boys were roughhousing a few yards away, much to Shiny's irritation as they rolled around on the dirt beneath his massive frame. The giant creature was making distressed noises and eventually managed to get away from the kids, heading slowly towards the adults.

"Joshua and Nathan will grow up and realize that they were either right or wrong about vault hunters," Keith said quietly as he turned to go inside. "I'm not going to make that decision for them."

Lawrence nodded slightly and welcomed Shiny into his space, relishing the way the creature nuzzled into his chest and rumbled like one of Scooter's vehicles. Poor dude must get so tired from watching those rowdy kids all the time. Lawrence wondered why he did it.

"I know, buddy," he said sympathetically, patting the guy on the head. "Take a nap, okay? I'll watch the kiddos."

The creature rumbled appreciatively and didn't bother to find a better spot to sink into the earth and sleep - he did it right then and there, nearly sucking Lawrence down with him.

Some frantic scrabbling and dumping dirt and trash out of his boots later, Lawrence made his way over to the boys, who had stopped roughhousing for the time being and sat digging through garbage in search of who knows what. There was bound to be a ton of fun, potentially-life-threatening things buried down here, a fact that both intrigued and horrified Lawrence.

"What'cha doin'?" he asked them, crouching down next to Joshua.

"Diggin'," came the kid's astute reply as he tossed aside some foreign twisted piece of metal. "Wanna help?"

"Sure."

Lawrence reached into the pile, mindful of all the sharp things that could easily slice one of his fingers off, and pulled out an old, half-corroded box of shotgun shells. He peeled it open and wasn't at all surprised to find three shells inside, all but one half-melted and useless. Lawrence had never been a fan of shotguns - too easy to miss and wind up with a one-armed scav tearing at you, all bloody and _ugh_ \- but he had never turned down the ammo for one just in case.

"Dibs!" Nathan squealed, lunging for the shell.

Lawrence sputtered and snatched it out of his grasp. "The hell - _heck_ do you want a shotgun shell for?" he snapped. "You don't even have a gun to use it with!"

"Yes I do!" the kid yelled back. "I’ve got an awesome secret stash of guns I'm savin' for when I become a vault hunter!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Lawrence asked, "And how would your parents or Shiny react if they knew about that, huh? Your dad told me how much Shiny's kind hates guns."

Nathan's eyes darted around nervously. "Shiny would never hurt me."

"I hope you're right," Lawrence said as he stood up. He flicked the shell at the kid, who scrambled to catch it, and then started for the house.

The sound of a gun going off somewhere in the distance knocked Lawrence into survival mode so hard that he didn't even realize he was on the ground until he had a face-full of trash. Startled cries from behind him jerked him back to reality; he craned his head over his shoulder and saw Nathan and Joshua gaping out into the valley, frozen in shock and standing in broad sight of whoever was shooting up the place.

He scrambled to his feet and tackled both boys to the ground. They didn't protest beyond small, frightened cries. Shiny, woken by the gunfire, was already in the process of positioning himself over them, rumbling so hard that Lawrence's teeth chattered.

"The hell was that?" came Keith's loud voice from inside the house. He and Moira were moving to step outside. "Lawrence? What the hell - "

"Stay down!" Lawrence snarled to the couple, prompting them to shut up and crouch low in the doorway of the shipping container.

Another volley of gunfire from within the caverns made Joshua start weeping and Shiny start growling from where he stood looming over them. Lawrence couldn't tell what was happening from his current position, so, with a noise of reassurance to the whimpering kids, he left them beneath Shiny and army-crawled his way over towards the crest of the hill.

At first, he could only make out the caustic pools, but eventually movement that wasn't varkid or crystalisk-related caught his eye. A group of bandits were making their way through the caverns, shooting anything that got in their way. They moved with a purpose, something that made Lawrence think that these assholes weren't here on a stroll.

"Bandits," he mouthed to Keith, whose frown deepened. He disappeared back into the house while Moira frantically motioned to her sons to join her. They scrambled out from underneath Shiny and into their mother's arms. Moira sent Lawrence a fierce look then, silently requesting that he get his ass over to them, too. He reluctantly did so, wondering if they had a plan of action for this sort of thing.

Keith had already turned off the stove and was in the process of smothering all the lanterns, plunging the house into darkness. Lawrence followed him into the back of the house where Moira had already herded their children. He frowned as Keith joined them in their little huddle.

"We're hiding?" he asked in a whisper.

"Do you have another plan that doesn't involve whipping out guns and shooting up the place?" Moira hissed.

Keith shot his wife a mild glare before turning to Lawrence. "Bandits come down here sometimes," he explained. "They don't last long, usually. None of them have ever made it up here, so we should be okay."

"Should be," Lawrence muttered.

"Even if they do get up here, Shiny's by the front door," Nathan babbled. "He'll save us!"

Lawrence almost told him that even Shiny could be killed by someone who knew how to shoot a gun, but he bit his tongue and tried to resign himself to sitting in the dark with the Sanders family for the next six hours.

But he couldn't do that. If those bandits were looking for something, they wouldn't stop until they found it. He had a sneaking suspicion that whatever they were after involved him, and like hell he was going to lie back and take it - not when others were involved. This was only going to end in tragedy for the family if they took this route.

"Give me my gun," he ordered, holding out his hand.

Keith gaped open-mouthed at him. "L-Lawrence, I can't - "

"They're going to find you and your family!" Lawrence snarled. "Shiny can only do so much to keep them at bay! He's not invincible! None of you are!"

"Neither are you!" the older man snapped back. "And you're down one arm! You can't - "

"I can do more than any of you! Give me my fucking gun, Sanders!"

The outburst caused the older man to recoil. He looked to his family and met the eyes of his pale wife, his trembling children, before he bit his lip and turned back to Lawrence, who still sat with his hand outstretched.

Keith handed the gun over with great reluctance. Lawrence snatched it out of his grasp and checked the ammo. Only enough bullets for five headshots, he noted, frowning. He had seen at least four bandits in the valley. They always seemed to roam in packs of a dozen or more, but maybe this time he'd get lucky and only have to deal with a handful.

He looked at Keith and his family and saw the pure terror shining in their eyes. He had to at least try. If nothing else, it would give them time to run.

"Stay here," he said softly, rising into a crouched position. "No matter what you hear, don't open the door until I tell you it's safe to come out. All right?"

Keith nodded frantically. "Be careful," he choked out.

The genuine concern in the man's voice only further fanned the fire burning through Lawrence's veins. The desire to protect these people was strong, but the urge to bury a bullet between the eyes of every last bandit threatening their lives was nearly suffocating him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	46. Chapter 46

Lawrence stepped outside the makeshift house just as the bandits were climbing their way up the base of trash mountain. He patted Shiny's back, shushing him, before he began descending to meet the bandits halfway.

There were nine of them, he realized, grinding his teeth. And in his rush to defend the homestead, he hadn't even thought about fetching his doubles for backup. Well, he would just have to think of something.

"Howdy," he called to the bandits. They all looked up in shock and raised their weapons, but one of them held a hand up to quell their desire to open fire. Judging by his muscle mass and vast array of potentially-lethal accessories hanging from his wide frame, Lawrence wagered he was the leader.

"Well, what a surprise," the leader proclaimed to his friends. "Can't believe you're still walkin' around after takin' such a nasty spill into the caverns."

Lawrence cocked a brow. "I don't believe we've met."

"Oh, no. We were watchin' you makin' your way down the rim a couple'a days ago," the bandit slurred, starting to circle around Lawrence. "You had some pretty interestin' gear on ya. Here we was thinkin' we'd have to loot yer broken corpse half dissolved in a pool a' caustic shit. Now you can just hand it over like a good lad, and we'll all go home happy."

"I don't have anything of value."

"Aw, don't try to lie to me now, boy. Those digistructs a' yers will look real good in my collection a' outdated tech."

"I thought you said we were gonna sell the digi-thing and split the money," one of the leader's men groused, only to recoil in fear when his boss turned to glower at him over his shoulder.

The leader was quick to turn back to Lawrence and flash him a hideous grin. "So how's about you hand 'em over to us now and we'll make yer death nice and quick?"

"Doesn't sound like a fair trade to me," Lawrence said, frowning.

"Nobody said anythin' about bein' fair." The leader's tone had abruptly taken a dark, dangerous turn. "Gimme yer shit, boy. I ain't gonna ask again."

"Look, I would, but..." Lawrence wiggled his bandaged arm. "I don't have it anymore. Lost it when I hit the ground. Probably into one of those damn pools."

The bandit leader said nothing for a moment, his beady eyes glued to the arm Lawrence had cradled to his chest in a sling. "That's a pretty good bandage job for someone with one arm," he said, lifting his gaze to sneer at Lawrence. His dark eyes flicked upwards towards the house. "You got friends up there?"

"Just me. You live on your own long enough, you learn how to adapt." Lawrence watched as the leader nodded at two of his men, who started towards the top of the trash mountain. "You really shouldn't do that," he said.

"Is that a threat?" one of the climbing bandits asked, laughing. "What you gonna do 'bout it, gimpy?"

Lawrence shrugged. "Oh, I won’t do anything. But Shiny will."

"Who the fuck is - "

A large chunk of golden crystals landed between the two bandits, who dumbly stood staring at it for the three whole seconds it took to explode in a mess of razor-sharp shards that shredded through their torsos.

The explosion ricocheted through Lawrence's ribs and ebbed through his veins, igniting a fire that had long since been extinguished. As the flames roared through him, he slipped into a mindset he hadn't been in since Elpis.

He drew his pistol from the confines of his jacket, leveling the barrel with the leader's fat head. Their boss's corpse hit the ground with a spurt of blood, prompting the dumb-struck grunts to open fire with a series of shrieks and angry exclamations. Fortunately their guns were less than stellar and sprayed bullets in all directions but the one Lawrence was currently running in, giving him enough time to duck behind a slab of metal that had broken off from the trash vessel.

"One," he muttered in a voice that was surprisingly steady despite the rapid beating of his heart that thrummed in his ears. He poked his head around the barrier and chanced another shot, taking a chunk of someone's neck clean off. The guy collapsed with a gurgle, and Lawrence counted, "Two."

The third and fourth shots somehow managed to nail their intended targets right in the noggins, leaving Lawrence with one bullet and three other spastic bandits to worry about. He wracked his brain for a solution and realized that he needed a distraction in order to reach the bandit leader’s shotgun from where it lay several dozen feet away.

What would Athena do? She'd whip out her shield or her sword and go to town on these assholes, that's what. But he didn't have either of those. He didn't have a melee weapon at all.

But he did have a crystalisk.

"Shiny!" he bellowed, turning back towards the house. "Could use some more assistance, buddy!"

The echoing roar that ensued was enough to make the bandits squeal in fear and the fire in Lawrence's veins to fan out with a vengeance. He could feel a twisted grin stretching across his face as Shiny's massive frame loomed over them from the top of the trash mountain. The creature roared again and began to fire another chunk of golden crystals down on the bandits.

The crystal landed with a rattling thud a few feet from Lawrence and exploded a moment later, sending shards everywhere, including in Lawrence's direction. The bandits screamed in fear and pain, prompting Lawrence to launch himself over the barrier and pop off his last pistol shot into the first bandit he saw. The dude went down with a wet, awful noise just as Lawrence snagged the bandit leader's shotgun off the ground. He didn't stop moving; he fired once into the chest of another bandit, shredding it, before he jammed the barrel of the gun beneath the jaw of the last bandit and pulled the trigger.

The last bandit's body fell in the same instance Lawrence's battle rage did. He took a step back from the carnage and forced himself to get his breathing back under control. Easier said than done, unfortunately.

Eventually his feet moved on their own accord, taking him back up the trash mountain to the front door of the house. Shiny watched him, rumbling softly. Lawrence half expected the creature to try to stop him, but he merely purred and nudged him with concern. Lawrence leaned back against him, relishing the friendly touch after experiencing such a quick, violent firefight. For a long moment he stood there against the crystalisk until he remembered that he wasn’t the only one in need of reassurance.

He patted the dude on the head and made his way to the front door. "It's safe," he called in a voice he didn’t recognize.

The door fell open almost immediately, revealing a pale, shaking Keith. "Jesus, man," he choked out, gently taking him by the wrist. "Oh, sh-shoot, okay, c'mon inside, son, lemme take a look at you."

"Is he all right?" Moira blurted as they shuffled past the room they'd been tucked away in. She stood bracing herself in the doorway. "Oh, god, is he...?"

"Feels like he's got a fever," Keith muttered, staring down at Lawrence's wrist.

Lawrence swallowed around the dryness in his throat. "It'll pass," he rasped, startling the couple. It was just the heat of battle burning through him. He hadn't felt its effects in a long, long time, but it hadn't changed in all these pacifistic years. He hadn't missed it.

"You're covered in blood," Moira said quietly, trying not to alert her sons. She didn't realize that they were right behind her, peering around her frame to catch a glimpse of him. When Lawrence met their eyes, Joshua flinched and turned away. Nathan continued to stare, his expression blank.

"Son?" Keith prodded. "Do you need us to get the med kit?"

Lawrence blinked and finally looked down at himself. "Oh," he said, noting the obscene amount of blood and viscera coating his shirt and skin. He dragged a hand across his cheek and frowned down at the red smudge left behind. No wonder they were freaked out. "Don't worry, none of this is mine."

That didn't seem to wipe the pale, terrified look off any of the other adults.

"Look after your kids," he said quietly as he started for the door. "I'm gonna go clean up."

"The shower's this way," Moira choked out, nodding her head towards the back of the house.

He shook his head. "Not me."

After looting the corpses littering the front yard, he dragged them to the nearest pool and dumped them in one by one. They didn't dissolve as quickly as Lawrence would have liked, but he refused to leave until every last bit of them were gone. He didn’t want the boys seeing what he’d done even though it was pretty goddamned obvious. They’d seen the blood and gore. They knew.

His stomach twisted and sent him into a dry-heaving fit. Bile was the only thing he managed to choke out; he hadn’t eaten in so long that there was nothing to vomit up. Empty inside in more ways than one, he mused sullenly, dragging a shaking hand across his jaw.

By the time he dragged himself back to the house for a much-needed shower, the blood coating his front had long hardened and was coming off of him in flakes. He could feel the others staring at him as he shuffled past the kitchen towards the makeshift bathroom at the back of the house, but he kept his gaze firmly forward, afraid of what might happen if he looked at any of them.

He felt guilty using up their already small supply of water, so he didn't bother taking his clothes off as he dunked himself beneath the half-rusted shower head Keith had fashioned out of a small strip of metal. He rubbed and scrubbed until the water ran mostly clear off of him. Yet, when he looked down at his hands, all he could see was red.

Two minutes later, soaked to the bone, he shut off the stream of water and sat down by the door, shuddering, but not due to the cold water clinging to his clothes. He dragged a hand through his sodden scalp and frowned when his hand came away with several dozen strands of silver-tinted hair coiled around his fingers. He probably looked terrible right about now - like an old man, scarred and wrinkled with more than just age.

"You okay?"

Lawrence peered up at the doorway to his right to find Keith standing there, his brow furrowed with concern. "You'll catch your death out here," he said. "I've got some spare clothes you can put on. Take those off and I'll hang them to dry."

"I haven't..."

"What?"

Lawrence licked his lips and tried again. "I haven't killed anyone in a long time," he said as he struggled to his feet. He wasn't sure why he was saying anything. "Well, anyone human."

The older man looked as lost as Lawrence felt. "You did this for us," he said softly. "Not because you wanted to. Please remember that."

"Guess my debt's to you’s been repaid," he joked weakly.

"There was never any debt between us, son." Keith gave his shoulder a squeeze and directed him into the kitchen where he had the stove on full-force.

Lawrence didn't bother to tell him that the cold and wetness didn't annoy him; he disrobed and accepted the bundle of old Hyperion-issued clothing the older man offered him. It was all a few inches too short in places for him, but they’d do until his own clothes dried.

"You got a cut on your cheek there," Keith told him once he was decent.

Lawrence lifted a shaking hand to poke at the offending gash a few millimeters from his brand. One of Shiny's exploding crystal clusters must have gotten him, he mused. He didn't have enough Eridium in his body to heal himself _and_ keep him conscious.

"It's fine," he said quietly, letting his arm drop. It fell like a lead bar into his lap.

The older man hummed, unsure, and fetched the first aid kit anyway. Lawrence let himself be manhandled, too high-strung to protest. Keith's touches were careful as he swabbed a cotton ball soaked in alcohol over the wound. It should have stung, but Lawrence barely felt the pressure let alone a burning sensation.

"You're trembling," Keith said suddenly, brow furrowing with concern as he withdrew. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Indeed, as Lawrence glanced down at himself, he noticed both of his legs were bouncing uncontrollably, and his hands shaking where they'd clenched the fabric of his borrowed pants.

"Adrenaline," Lawrence said. He thought he'd burned it off already. "It'll stop soon."

“Anything I can do to help you ‘til then?”

Lawrence opened and closed his mouth several times. He stared through the man’s chest as he finally replied, “No.”

He avoided the family for the rest of the day and spent most of his time pacing around the outside of the camp, not wanting to annoy them with the constant sound of his boots hitting the metal shipping containers as he paced. It took far, far too long for the adrenaline to leave him completely, but when it did, it left him so exhausted he barely had enough strength to drag himself back to his shipping container early.

His bed was nothing more than a blanket draped across a cluster of old wooden boxes that creaked under his added weight, but it was certainly better than the pile of flattened cardboard boxes that the rest of the family slept on. He felt guilty even having it, but they had insisted.

It was only in the middle of the night long after everyone else had fallen asleep that Lawrence broke down and allowed himself to cry. He swallowed his sobs as much as he could, but they still roused one of the other house's occupants.

Lawrence sensed he was being watched; he uncurled from his sad little ball just enough to see Joshua standing timidly next to his bed, his eyes wide with a concern that no child his age should be able to wield.

"Why're you sad?" he asked quietly around his thumb.

Lawrence opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Why _was_ he sad? Those bandits deserved to die. Who knows what they would have done to Keith and his family? He did a good thing.

But he still felt like shit.

“Because,” he began hesitantly, hating the way his voice caught in the back of his throat, “because I want to go home and I can’t.”

Joshua’s face scrunched up with sympathy. "Here," he said, holding out a raggedy stuffed bullymong toy. It was missing an arm and its blue fake fur was faded and worn down in several places - all signs that the thing was well-loved by the boy. "When I'm sad, I hug Mr. Bully and I feel better."

Lawrence wordlessly accepted the doll and, after a moment of hesitation, hugged it to his chest.

"Feel better?" Joshua prodded.

"A little," Lawrence admitted, forcing a small smile onto his face. He reached over and ruffled the kid's hair. "Thanks, Joshua."

The boy flashed him a grin, exposing his missing front tooth, before he dashed back to his own room, no doubt afraid of what his mother would do if she found him missing at such an insane hour.

Lawrence curled tighter around Mr. Bully and let his mind drift. He could no longer sleep, but he found he could still send his mind far from reality thanks to Maya and her daily sessions.

As he slipped into a state of meditation, he saw flashes of fire and blood and the faces of everyone he had ever left behind. He saw his mother, his sisters, Angel, even Athena and Gaige and Maya. Axton’s face stood out the most among the whirlwind of friends and family; it was twisted with pain and anger as he screamed wordlessly at someone over Lawrence’s shoulder.

Lawrence jerked out of his trance, hugged Mr. Bully even tighter, and stayed awake long into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	47. Chapter 47

"How's that feel?"

Lawrence wiggled the fingers on his right hand before he slowly rotated his wrist. "Not bad," he said, rolling his shoulder. "Another day or two and I should be able to get outta here - shit!" He hissed through his teeth at the dull stabbing sensation that riddled his arm when he went to jiggle it.

Moira squinted at him in disapproval. Lawrence knew she didn't like it when he cursed, but sometimes it just couldn't be helped. "Not as healed as you thought," she said, moving to grab the strip of cloth they'd been using as sling. "You'll be fine without the splint, I think, but you should definitely keep it in a sling for a couple more days."

"Yeah," Lawrence agreed, frowning deeply. He'd already been here close to a week. What was another couple of days?

Keith joined them just as Moira was finishing up. "I have some good news for you, Lawrence," he said, holding out his digistruct watch.

He snatched it up, grinning. "You were able to kill the signal?"

"I think so. I don't know the code to activate them, so you're better off asking them yourself."

Lawrence did exactly that. The sight of his doubles blinking to life made him grin and forget his woes for a moment. "Hey, guys, how ya doin'?"

"Well doings!" Blue declared, equally happy to see his boss.

"What he said," Red said.

"Keith says he turned off the beacon in your, uh, system," Lawrence told the badass. "Can you confirm or...?"

Red's gaze became vacant as he ran a diagnostic search on his own coding. "While the workmanship is shoddy at best," he began, earning a half-assed glare from Keith, "I cannot detect a code for a distress signal within my network."

"Woo!" Lawrence cheered, pumping his fists into the air, only to flinch and yell, "Ow! Fuck! I-I mean shi - fuh - dang. Dang."

Moira's thin lips curled in a smirk as she rose to her feet and headed back to the house, leaving the boys with their toys.

"Bone limb also well doings?" Blue inquired, poking a transparent finger at the sling.

"It's getting there," Lawrence told him, patting the limb gently. "A few more days and it'll be good as new."

"Not if you keep swinging it around like that," Keith pointed out.

"Duly noted," Lawrence flashed him a grin as he rose to his feet and stretched his good arm over his head. His back gave a satisfying pop that had Blue tilting his head in confusion and mild concern. "We're heading out for a while. Don't wait up, old man."

The "old man" gave a sputtering laugh as Lawrence darted down the trash mountain.

Early on in his stay, Lawrence had plotted out a path towards one of the larger buildings he might be able to scale once his stupid arm healed. Yesterday he discovered that there was an elevator inside said building that was still working. From the looks of things, it would take him back to the edge of the rim, but no further. He wasn't quite sure what the surface would hold for him. Probably a ton of bandits and things to climb over, he wagered, ever the optimist.

"Lemme know when you can get a signal," he told Red as he fiddled with the elevator controls. After a few more seconds of nothing, he gave up and started beating the shit out of the console until finally the goddamn thing gave an awful sputter and began to chug its way skyward. "I'd rather not take this thing all the way up just yet."

"Roger," his double told him.

"Lawrence," Blue said, pointing at their boss. His holographic brow was creased with confusion as he turned back to his other half.

Red stared at him. "Red."

"Blue!" the smaller double shrieked, body flickering with the outburst.

"Stop picking on him," Lawrence snapped, staring at the wall in front of him as it slowly slid past. He was trying very hard not to think of how high up they were getting. The glowing exit above them still looked like it was a good half mile up. "That reminds me, you never apologized for being an asshole to him back on the mountain."

The badass tilted his head. "Apologize?"

"Yeah. Search the ECHOnet for the definition if you're confused."

"I know what it means, sir," Red said, all but spitting the last word out. "I'm not going to apologize when I am, in fact, not sorry."

"You should be, though. You were a dick."

"So you want me to lie to him."

Lawrence snapped his mouth shut and glared at his badass double. "I just want you to be nice to him. He's your...I dunno, your digital...brother, or something. Sibling." When both doubles sent him blank looks, he threw his arm up in defeat. "Just stop being shitbirds to each other! You're all you've got!"

"We have you," Red pointed out. "Unless you plan on leaving us behind again."

That quip was unexpected and left Lawrence flinching quite violently, enough so that his hip bumped into the control panel. "I said I was sorry for that."

"I know." Red's form flickered as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "I apologize. I...I don't know why I felt the need to bring that up again."

"You're still sore about it," Lawrence said, brows slowly rising with the realization. For a dude who was supposed to be more technical than emotional, he sure tended to wear his digital heart on his sleeve. "Not that I can blame you - either of you. I give you guys some feelings and this is how I treat you."

"I did not mean to bring the party down."

Lawrence did a triple-take and stared wide-eyed at the badass. Even Blue seemed to realize that what Red just uttered was nonsense and echoed the confused look.

Red shuffled his feet again, clearly embarrassed despite not having any recognizable emotion on his face. "As the...cool kids say," he added lamely.

"Are you trying to make me laugh?"

"The ECHOnet suggests that making a fool of oneself tends to bring amusement to others. So, yes."

Lawrence couldn't help the grin or small chuckle. "Consider your mission a success, then."

Red said nothing, but there was a softness in his gaze that indicated he was pleased.

Another minute passed before the badass picked his head up again. "Signal located," Red said. "Link to the ECHOnet fully established. Awaiting orders, sir."

Lawrence grinned and smacked the elevator controls, stalling the thing's ascent. "Sweet! Uh, I guess just find us an isolated place for us to...to live for a while," he said. Since they didn't have to worry about smothering a distress beacon anymore, they were free to remain on the surface. He just hoped Hyperion wouldn't be able to track him.

"I suggest moving east."

"Why? What's east?"

"Nothing." Red's eyes flickered. "The chances of anything surviving in the remote frozen tundra to the east is extremely small. In addition to keeping you from starving or dying of thirst, the Eridium in your body will keep you from freezing to death."

Lawrence's excitement faded at the prospect of roaming around desolate glaciers for the rest of his life. "Right," he said through a sigh. "I guess...yeah, make a note of that. We'll head that way when we leave here."

Red uttered an affirmation. Blue swayed on his feet beside him, frowning and rubbing his arm.

"Sky friendlies," he muttered mournfully.

"We can't, Blue," Lawrence muttered, sending the elevator back down. "We'll go back someday, maybe. But not for a long time."

"Dahl man muscle soldier?" Blue prompted, trying to peer around Lawrence's shoulder.

Lawrence's grip on the railing increased. "We can't," he said again with finality.

His doubles fell silent before eventually vanishing with a burst of digital particles, leaving Lawrence to traverse the long walk back to camp by himself.

He ran into Nathan and Joshua along the way. They were a little far from the camp for Lawrence's liking, but he could see Shiny's back crystals jutting out of the ground nearby, so at least they weren't completely defenseless.

Joshua greeted him fondly with a toothy smile and a hug around his knees. Ever since he caught Lawrence crying that one night, the kid seemed to have realized that Lawrence was human, too. His markings didn't change that. And Lawrence would be lying if he didn't think rather fondly of the little squirt, too.

His brother, however...

"Can you teach me how to shoot?" Nathan blurted the second Lawrence looked at him.

"Are you kidding?" Lawrence asked, sneering at him. "I want no part in your dirty little gun stash secret. If you wanna get yourself killed looking for a goddamned vault, that's all on you."

At first, Lawrence thought he'd made the kid cry. His lower lip wobbled and his eyes got watery, but then Nathan turned away from him and went back to rooting through the piles of trash. Lawrence noticed for the first time the Dahl pistol he had in his hand.

"Another gun for your collection?"

Nathan jerked and dropped the weapon, apparently not realizing that Lawrence had stuck around. He whirled on him, glaring with all the gusto of a furious pre-teen boy, before he turned away again, huffing quietly as he went about his business.

Lawrence pursed his lips and quietly followed the kid, making sure his looming presence was quite known. Nathan's shoulders got more and more tense as he simultaneously tried to hide his findings and ignore Lawrence as he made a nuisance out of himself. It didn't take long to make him crack, though.

"Go away!" he snapped, glowering at him over his shoulder. "If you're not gonna teach me how to shoot, I don't wanna deal with you!"

Lawrence put his good hand over his chest. "Nathan, how could you be so cruel?" he mock-wailed. "I only just saved your family from being slaughtered by bandits!" He became sober and jabbed a threatening finger at the kid. "You should show some respect, twerp."

To his surprise, the boy met his threat head-on. "Dad always told me I should give respect when given respect. You haven't done that. So..." He blew a raspberry in Lawrence's face. "Eat my shorts, skaglick."

Lawrence's jaw dropped. "You piece of - of poop!" he blurted.

"Am I wrong?"

"You - well - no, but..." Wow. Owned by a twelve-year-old punk. Now it was Lawrence's turn to huff and pout.

"You never even asked me why I want to be a vault hunter," Nathan continued quietly, turning away. He bent over to pick up an old bullet for a sniper rifle. "It's not about looking for a vault. I don't care about money or being famous. It's about protecting my family when we finally decide to leave this place. It's about being a hero to _them_."

That wasn't what a vault hunter did. They didn't do anything unless they got paid for it. Most people knew that they shouldn't even bother asking them for help unless they could give them something in return. What was so gallant about that?

Still, Lawrence kept his mouth shut. Keith's words reverberated through his bones, swallowing up all the nasty things he could possibly say to shoot the kid's dream down. It wasn't his place to tell him how to think.

"I'm not ever leavin'," Joshua mumbled quietly to himself. He had a chunk of something shiny and probably riddled with germs in his mouth and was dutifully gnawing on it until Nathan hurriedly snatched it away from him. "Nate, that's mine!"

"Don't chew on rusty pieces of metal," his brother snapped as he chucked the trash over his shoulder. He fished around in his tattered pants pocket until he found a weathered binky, which Joshua reluctantly accepted and popped into his mouth. The kid was probably too old for one of those, but if it kept him from chewing on nasty pieces of garbage, Lawrence was definitely not going to say anything in protest.

He turned back to Nathan, who was back to staring forlornly down at the sniper shell in his hands. Lawrence sighed and bent down to pluck it up.

"I hope you have something other than a sniper rifle to work with," he grumbled. "You wouldn't be able to lift the damn thing let alone fire it without crushing your ribs."

Nathan puffed out his chest. "I can handle it!" He rapidly deflated, no doubt entertaining the image of himself hobbling around with a collapsed sternum. "But I do have a some other guns."

"Good. Well, lead the way."

The kid remained rooted to the spot and proceeded to flash him a suspicious glance. "You're not just sayin' this so you can run off and tell Dad where my stash is, are you?"

"No." Lawrence offered him a small, tired smile. "I can understand wanting to protect your family. That's the only reason why I'm agreeing to help you out."

Nathan grinned up at him. "Cool! C'mon, it's down in the valley by the mines!" He started off, practically sprinting over the piles of trash. Joshua let out a muffled squeal and began to follow as fast as his chubby little baby legs would let him.

Lawrence cast a worried glance behind him at the slumbering Shiny, then up towards the homestead. The kids run off all the time, his brain reasoned.

"We'll be fine!" Nathan called to him. He had stopped to pick Joshua up and let him ride on his shoulders. "You're with us, remember? Now c'mon!"

Well, he supposed he couldn't argue with that.

He followed them down into the valley. The kids moved with precision and expertise, having run this route many times before, whereas Lawrence was left floundering over the piles of trash and caustic pools that seemed to have a penchant for appearing underneath his feet when he wasn't looking.

A series of minecart tracks became visible as they crested another trash mountain. Nathan led them down towards the tracks, only to veer off to the left towards the remains of what must have been a watch tower of some sort back in the day. To get inside they had to climb up another incline, this one comprised of the side of a building that had long since eroded into nothing more than a slab. Nathan, still wearing his brother like a hat, hauled himself up the ramp to the crumbling remains of a concrete platform. There was no door in sight, Lawrence noted as he scrambled up. Just a very small hole in the wall in front of them.

"Through here," Nathan said, gesturing him closer with a wave of his arm. He paused and frowned between Lawrence and the hole. "Maybe. You should be able to fit."

Lawrence huffed. He probably weighed less now than he had when he'd been a teenager. "Move over, punk," he groused as he wiggled through the confining entrance.

His bony shoulders gave him a second of grief, but a firm shove from Nathan sent him sprawling face-first into a dusty, dim room the size of a broom closet - mostly because the other half of the room had collapsed into a rather dark, foreboding hole in the floor.

A coughing fit seized him for a moment as the brothers crawled their way inside with much more ease than he. "Dust in here much?" he choked out, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Nah," Nathan said, distracted as he made his way over to a portion of the room that hadn't collapsed. A Dahl loot chest was tucked away beneath a thin sheet of metal that he hurried to shove off to the side. The kid was practically vibrating with excitement when he turned to face Lawrence. "Ready?"

He crooked a brow at the kid, silently urging him to get the show on the road. Nathan opened the chest, revealing a ton of ammo, more than Lawrence had seen in a while. Nestled in the middle of the ammo nest was shotgun, a pistol, and an SMG that had definitely seen better days. They were all terribly boring and underpowered, at least compared to the kind of gear Lawrence had dealt with while working for Jack. Lawrence resisted the urge to show his disgust on his face as he observed the chest's contents.

"The SMG's still loaded, but I'm afraid to try to shoot it 'cos it's melted in places," Nathan said as he pulled the gun from the chest. It was huge in his hands.

Lawrence took the weapon out of Nathan's grip and observed the damage. It would probably explode if he pulled the trigger. "Yeah, no, definitely a bad idea."

Nathan nodded and chucked the busted weapon through the hole in the floor. Lawrence winced, expecting an explosion, but he didn't even hear the gun hit the ground, indicating they were either super high up or there was a caustic pool beneath them. Neither idea pleased him in the slightest.

Next Nathan brought out the shotgun, which was practically half his size, and handed it to him. It was a typical Bandit shotgun - pump-action with garbage accuracy and a reload speed that made Lawrence cringe. The damage was substantial, sure, but he wasn't inspecting it for his sake. Nathan could barely lift the damn thing let alone fire it.

"It's not bad," Lawrence reported finally, setting the gun down by the chest. "But definitely not something you'll be able to use just yet. Hang onto it. By the time you and your family get out of this crater, I'm sure you'll be able to wield it just fine."

Nathan beamed at him.

Beside him, Joshua reached into the chest and, with a little difficulty, picked up the remaining weapon and immediately set about gnawing on the goddamned barrel. Before Lawrence could have a coronary, Nathan tsked and took the gun from his baby brother like it was no big deal.

"It's not loaded," Nathan assured Lawrence as he passed him the gun. "This one's Josh's favorite. Probably 'cos it's the only one he can lift."

Lawrence chuckled. "Probably." He inspected the simple Dahl repeater, noting it's low damage output but decent fire rate. Dahl weapons had that goddamned burst fire feature that made Lawrence want to pull his hair out - okay, fine, that's an okay thing to have with SMGs and assault rifles, but c'mon, you piece of shit company, why would you do such a thing to sniper rifles?

"Do you know how to load it?" Lawrence asked.

Nathan nodded proudly. "Back on Helios, Dad showed me how to load his Hyperion pistol," he said, growing somber at the memory. "Just...just in case."

Lawrence handed the repeater back to him and told him to load it. The boy did it a little hesitantly, confused by the differences between Hyperion guns and Dahl guns, but soon enough he figured it out. He slipped the magazine in, snapped it shut, and looked up at Lawrence, seeking approval.

"Good," Lawrence said, echoing the boy's smile with a genuine one of his own. "Try to make sure you're not pointing it at anyone when you do that. Misfires and all. It happens even to the best."

Nathan nodded seriously and pointed the repeater down at the ground. "Will you teach me how to shoot it now?"

"One step at a time, kiddo. Keep reloading that thing for a while, then I'll show you how to shoot it, okay?"

The kid huffed but didn't outwardly object as he popped open the chamber to pull out the magazine. He repeated the process, growing more and more confident with each reload. Joshua, bored with watching the same thing over and over, crawled over to Lawrence and demanded to be held. Lawrence brought the kid into his lap and let him play with the strap of his hood.

"Who taught you how to shoot?" Nathan asked after a while without looking up from the repeater. "Your dad?"

He nearly laughed at the thought of his father wielding a gun. "No. Dad was a professor at a college back on Eden. Hyperion gave me some lessons. So did a few...friends. I had to figure a lot of it out on my own."

Nathan hummed. "My dad promised to teach me some day," he said, "but not now. The Shinies don't like guns. I don't want to scare them."

"I don't want to scare them either," Lawrence agreed. "Is there somewhere we can go away from the Shinies to practice?"

"There's a place near some mine cart tracks we could go to, a little further down into the cavern." The kid nodded towards the hole in the wall. "I don't ever see any Shinies there. I could set up a little tin-can shooting range. Just like in the old movies!"

Balancing Joshua in his lap, Lawrence scooted over to the hole in the wall and peered deeper into the valley, trying to spot said mine cart tracks. He sighed quietly, missing his depth perception. He'd probably need glasses in a few years for his remaining eye.

"You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?" he asked the kid.

"Only since you shot all those bandits." Nathan clicked the repeater shut for the hundredth time and sent him a pleading look. "Can we go there now? C'mon, reloading this thing isn't rocket science. Please, Lawrence?"

Lawrence bit his lip, frantically weighing the pros and cons of agreeing to do this. The kid would have to learn eventually. He just hoped they didn't piss off any crystalisks in the process. "Fine," he relented, "but you're taking the fall for this if we get caught."

"Deal!" Nathan exclaimed, grinning wider than a kid on Mercenary Day morning. He was already up and scrambling for the hole in the wall, giggling excitedly.

"Deal!" Joshua echoed, rushing after his brother. Lawrence had no choice but to follow and try not to think about how much he might regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I wonder what could possibly go wrong...
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	48. Chapter 48

"Hands over your ears, Josh - like this, okay?"

The five-year-old raised his hands and smooshed them over his ears, more or less mimicking Lawrence's current stance. Lawrence flashed the kid an approving smile before turning to face his older brother.

They had made their way to a relatively deserted portion of the Caustic Caverns where Nathan had promised there wouldn't be any potentially lethal interruptions while Lawrence taught him how to shoot a gun. Lawrence didn't like the fact that they had to lower themselves into what was essentially a pit; the only way to get in or out was to climb up the side of a six foot cliff side, which wouldn't have been difficult if his one arm wasn't currently out of commission. He had patrolled the area for a while, mostly just to calm his nerves, until he was satisfied that they were in fact relatively safe. It was during that time that Nathan set up a little tin can firing range - just like the movies - and now stood ready to listen to Lawrence's lessons.

"Arms up," Lawrence told him as he got closer. He helped level the kid's arms with his line of sight. "Eyes open. Remember, the gun is an extension of you. Move with it, but don't let it control you. When you're ready to fire, take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger when you exhale. Take your time."

Nathan nodded firmly, his expression tight with determination.

Once he had the stance down, Lawrence took several steps back towards Joshua. "Ready when you are," he said, giving the kid a thumbs up. "Josh, ears."

As Joshua popped his hands back over his ears, Nathan nodded and focused on the lineup of tin cans across the field. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger on his exhale, firing the pistol.

The shot missed by a wide arc, as Lawrence predicted. The ensuing bang wasn't as loud as he expected it to be, but it still echoed eerily throughout the abandoned cavern. The trio remained frozen for a moment, waiting for something, anything to happen. Joshua whimpered a little and kept his hands firmly over his ears, his wide eyes watering up.

Finally Lawrence allowed himself to relax. "Okay," he said through an exhale. "You fired a gun. Good job, kid."

Nathan, despite trembling and looking a little watery-eyed himself, sent him a grin from over his shoulder. As he took aim at the pieces of metal again, Lawrence could see that his hands were trembling and making his aim shake. He reached over and patted his shoulder.

"Let's take a short break, okay? Just take a few breaths and focus." Lawrence felt Joshua tug on his pant leg and readily scooped the whimpering boy into his arms. "It's okay, Josh. Your brother's learning how to be a hero! Isn't that cool?"

Joshua just buried his face in Lawrence's shoulder, shuddering.

Nathan fired off a few more shots with little success in actually hitting anything, but by the time he emptied the clip, he was grinning widely and shaking with adrenaline as he turned around to face Lawrence and his brother.

"Can I have another clip? I was so close to hitting the can on the end!" he exclaimed.

Lawrence gave in and handed over another magazine. "This is the last one for now, so make the shots count," he warned.

Nodding, Nathan wasted little time in popping out the empty one and sliding the new one into the pistol. He was a fast learner, Lawrence noted, eyebrows shooting up when he realized Nathan hadn't even looked at the gun as he reloaded it. The kid's gaze was focused on the line of cans yards away.

Maybe this wouldn't take as long as he thought, Lawrence mused as he put the palm of his hand over Joshua's one ear while the boy buried the other one in the folds of Lawrence's shirt.

Nathan fired two more shots, one of which ricocheted off the rock that the cans were balancing on. The kid shook himself, muttering angrily under his breath, and took aim again, waiting a long tic before squeezing the trigger once more.

A tin can jerked and flew backwards, blown away by the bullet that had nicked the side of it.

"I did it!" Nathan squealed, almost dropping the gun in utter astonishment. He whirled on Lawrence, wide-eyed and grinning. "I did it!"

"You did!" Lawrence agreed over Joshua's giggling. The kid's grin was contagious. "Good job, kiddo!"

Nathan was literally jumping up and down with complete and utter elation. "I'm gonna be a vault hunter!" he roared, waving the gun at the heavens. "The best one on this side of the galaxy! Mark my words, Pandora! The best!"

Lawrence felt himself sobering up rather quickly at the thought, though the smile stayed on his face, anchored by the kid's happiness. "Keep going," he urged. "That might've been a lucky shot."

"It was not!" the boy fired back. "I was aiming for that can!"

"Then aim for the next one and prove me wrong."

"Fine!" Nathan whirled around, leveled his arm, and fired off another shot that completely missed.

Lawrence shook his head as the boy fumed. "You're getting mad," he said. "Don't think about anything else but hitting your intended target. Inhale, exhale."

Nathan breathed deeply for a long moment before he decided to shoot again. The bullet knocked the can askew, but not quite off the rock. "Dang it!" he yelled.

"Maybe you should take another break - "

"No! I wanna do this," Nathan insisted, holding the gun possessively. The anger bled out of him. "I have to."

You don't, Lawrence almost said. Instead, he nodded and kept quiet as Nathan fired off two more shots, both missing.

The boy's lower lip wobbled as he lowered the gun. "Maybe it _was_ just a lucky shot," he whispered.

Lawrence came up next to him and ruffled his hair. "These things take a lot of practice, kiddo," he said. "It took me months to be able to hit where I thought I was aiming. Even then, a lot of it is just pure luck." His words didn't seem to put the kid at ease, so he added, "We can practice some more tomorrow, okay? Let's go get something to eat."

Nathan sighed but didn't outwardly protest to the idea. His stomach gave a rumble in agreement, making Lawrence chuckle.

"See? You're hungry."

The boy sent him a weird look. "I thought that was _your_ stomach," he said just as another rumbling noise filled the area. This time, the ground trembled alongside the noise.

"The hell is that?" Lawrence muttered, looking around. "Are earthquakes a thing down here?"

Nathan was shaking his head rapidly as he took a panicked step backwards. "Threshers," he blurted.

"What?" Lawrence whirled on him, horrified. "Why would you bring us down here if there's _threshers_?"

"'Cos I didn't want to make the other Shinies mad!" the boy exclaimed, clutching his repeater so hard that his knuckles were turning white. "We gotta go, we gotta go, Lawrence - "

He didn't need to tell him twice. Lawrence gripped a gasping Joshua and urged Nathan onward, back towards the way they had come. The small cliff seemed miles away, and with the ground rumbling beneath their stumbling feet, it took even longer to get there.

Unfortunately climbing up the cliff side was a lot harder than just jumping down from it. Lawrence had to give Nathan a boost up by allowing the kid to more or less jump off his back, which knocked the wind out of him for a moment. Nathan scrambled up and turned to grab Joshua from Lawrence. He was mere inches away from snagging his brother's hands when the ground lurched beneath Lawrence's feet, almost making him drop Joshua.

"Nathan - " Lawrence choked as something thick wrapped around his ankle, yanking his feet out from under him. He managed to twist so that his back slammed into the ground and not the child in his arms, though the fall jostled Joshua hard enough to make him scream in fear and pain.

"Lawrence!" Nathan was yelling, half-leaning down over the edge of the cliff to reach for both of them. Fat tears were rolling down his flushed cheeks. "Lawrence, get up!"

Lawrence had a split second of trying to do so before he was jerked again, this time across the rough terrain away from Nathan. Lawrence looked between his legs and was not at all surprised to see the giant thresher several yards away poking its ugly mug out of the dust and waving more of its hideous appendages around. The one around Lawrence's leg constricted, making his bones groan in protest.

In a split second decision, Lawrence let go of Joshua, who tumbled from his grasp with a whimper but landed safely a few feet away from the cliff. With his hands free, Lawrence reached for his pistol, only to realize that it was back at the house. In a blind panic, he proceeded to twist onto his stomach and desperately sink his fingers into the dirt, but it did little to keep him from being yanked towards the thresher.

"Nathan!" Lawrence shrieked. The boy had jumped back down from the cliff and was in the process of scooping Joshua off the ground. "Nathan, shoot it!"

The boy let out a frightened noise and held his wailing brother close to his chest. The pistol lay in the dirt by his feet, forgotten as he took a step away from the monster.

Lawrence's brow creased with fear. "Nathan - "

Suddenly he was dangling by one leg thirty feet in the air and staring down at the dirt and rocks and trash that surrounded the thresher below. The creature shrieked at him, but Lawrence didn't hear, too stunned by how high up he was. Shock had only just set in when he was whipped brutally over the thresher's back, then brought slamming down into the earth in front of it, snapping several of his ribs clean off and knocking the wind right out of him.

As he lay there in the dirt wheezing, he heard a familiar roaring coming from the top of the valley. He didn't need to turn his head to figure out that Shiny was charging into battle, no doubt woken by Joshua's echoing wails. Keith and Moira were probably right behind the crystalisk. Hopefully Keith had been smart enough to bring a weapon with him, because this thresher was ten times the size of any he'd been in contact with on Elpis and it was probably going to take more than one clip to take it out.

"I hate this planet," he gurgled just as the thresher began to lift him into the air again.

He was too weak to adequately panic at the distance between himself and the ground, so he resorted to just dangling limply from the creature's grasp, drowning in his own blood from his punctured lungs. He could feel his body trying to heal itself, but there just wasn't enough Eridium in his blood to complete the process.

A shot whizzed by his head, startling him and making the thresher shriek in pain as the bullet buried itself in its face. It thrashed as more shots penetrated its body, and a split second later Lawrence found himself hitting the ground with a sickening crack. There went his goddamned shoulder and collarbone again.

Shiny's roars were closer now, and Lawrence could hear Moira screaming for her sons. The thought of the boys made Lawrence forget his agony long enough to force himself into a sitting position and assess the situation.

Nathan was standing in front of Joshua with the pistol clutched tightly in his outstretched hands. The older boy looked scared out of his mind, but there was an air of determination around him as he fired off three more consecutive shots, nailing the thresher in the face again and again. That is, until the gun clicked uselessly in his hands, the clip empty.

Sensing this, the thresher went on a rampage, ignoring Lawrence entirely as it dove beneath the dirt and began to surge towards the boys. Nathan let out a frightened squeak and dropped the gun, turning instead for his blubbering brother just as the thresher emerged from the ground a few feet from them.

Wheezing, Lawrence summoned his doubles, grateful that his broken arm was the one with the device strapped to his wrist and not vice-versa. Red and Blue flickered into existence, took one look at the situation, and simultaneously whirled on him.

"Boss," Blue blurted worriedly. "The big thing with the noodles that are not for consuming - "

"Punctured lungs, broken collarbone," Red began to babble, but Lawrence cut them both off.

"Help the kids," he rasped, swallowing down the blood and mucus that his lungs were trying so hard to expel. "Distract the thresher - just - do something. Hurry!"

His doubles snapped away and reappeared behind the thresher, easily drawing its attention with their lobbed attacks. The creature began to lash out at them, shrieking and getting angrier when its tentacles flattened one double only to have him reappear whole and healthy a few feet away.

Behind the thresher, Lawrence could see that Moira and Keith had arrived and were in the process of ushering the frightened children away from the carnage. Shiny was roaring fiercely at the distracted thresher, further confusing the damned thing, but otherwise doing nothing to stop it.

Eridium, Lawrence's hungry body moaned. Find Eridium.

He cast a frantic look around, but there weren't any trash piles or dumpsters within reach of him. He barely even noticed when Keith skidded to a stop next to him, too absorbed in finding the mineral.

"C'mon," the older man exclaimed, thankfully grabbing him by his good arm in an attempt to pull him on his feet. "Get up, son, we need to - "

"Eridium," Lawrence rasped through a mouthful of blood. At Keith's confused, terrified look, Lawrence continued with great effort, "I'm dying. I need Eridium. Just a bit of it."

Keith spun around in a desperate circle, looking for the same trash piles Lawrence had been looking for a moment earlier. "S-son, I don't see - "

Suddenly Shiny gave a pained yelp; the thresher had turned its attention on the crystalisk, whacking it with at tentacle so hard that a huge chunk of crystal crumbled off his back. Behind him, Joshua let out a scream of fright that only further enraged the thresher, to the point where it ignored Lawrence's doubles and began to move straight for Moira and the boys on the cliff.

"No!" Keith shrieked, lifting his gun to fire wildly at the back of the thresher. It didn't help that the gun was a Hyperion model, meaning his first couple shots missed the damn thing completely.

Undeterred, the creature reared one giant tentacle over its back and then brought it crashing down on the cliff side, knocking the rest of Keith's family to the ground. Moira barely dodged the writhing appendage and fell back with a yelp as Joshua wailed non-stop in her arms, scared out of his poor little mind. Nathan wasn't so lucky; to avoid being crushed, he had no choice but to leap down from the cliff, back into the creature's den. He hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and lay whimpering in the dirt as the thresher withdrew and prepared for another strike.

Keith was screaming and rushing at the thresher gun blazing, Joshua was wailing, Shiny was bellowing himself hoarse - but it was all becoming a mix of background noise. Lawrence was half numb with the chill of death at that point and could do nothing more than watch the scene unfold through half-lidded eyes.

"Nathan!" Keith yelled from somewhere close, "watch out!"

The kid picked his head up just in time to see the incoming attack from the thresher. Despite being winded, Nathan managed to roll out of the way, forcing the thresher's tentacle to take out the pile of trash next to him instead of his torso.

Out of the trash pile rolled one glorious, glistening chunk of Eridium.

"Nathan!" Lawrence found himself screaming at the top of his blood-filled lungs to the poor dazed boy. "Throw me that!"

It took the kid a second to realize what he meant. Nathan fumbled for the mineral, nearly getting wrapped up in the thresher's tentacle as it withdrew for another attack, and managed to hurl the Eridium a few feet away from Lawrence.

The sight of it just sitting there in the dirt made Lawrence forget about everything - forget about the fact that he was dying, forget the pain, the dire situation unfolding around him - all that mattered was getting to that goddamn mineral.

The second he shifted position to start crawling towards the Eridium, all the blood in his lungs came pouring out of his mouth. Breathing became nigh impossible, but Lawrence didn't notice - he had to get to the Eridium, he _had to_ -

After what seemed like fifty goddamned years of crawling through the dirt and his own blood as it leaked steadily from his body, Lawrence's fingers brushed the edge of the mineral.

His blood burned with that glorious sensation, and then -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two cliffhangers in a row. I'm so sorry. ;w;
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of reaching 5k hits yesterday, I've decided to update today, too. ^^ Thank you guys so much for your support!! <3

The next thing Lawrence knew, he was opening his eyes. The roof of the old Dahl warehouse greeted him, the same as it had been after waking from his tumble into the cavern - only this time, there was no agony from broken bones, no concussions or snapped spines.

Had it all been a dream? he wondered as he forced himself into a sitting position. He went to brush his hair out of his eyes, but froze when he noticed that they were glowing purple. He yanked up his sleeve and noted that the winding coils that snaked up his forearms were alight as well. His blood was singing with Eridium again, he realized, and honestly, it felt _good_.

It was almost weird how he felt lighter on his feet when hopped up on the mineral, but he wasn't about to complain as he rose from the bed and began to make his way down the hallway. He grew more and more concerned with each empty room he came across, but his worry left him when he stepped outside and saw the Sanders family sitting around a barrel fire, cooking what looked like a couple of varkid wings. They all looked up at him as he got closer.

"Oh, good, you're all okay - "

Suddenly the air in his lungs was gone, shoved brutally out by none other than Shiny, who literally rose up out of the trash to knock him off his feet. Lawrence grunted as he hit the ground and froze at the sight of the infuriated animal looming above him.

"Sh-Shiny, it's me," he said quietly, holding his hands up in submission. Perhaps not the best thing to do considering the fact that his hands were glowing with power. Shiny's roar in his face seemed to confirm that.

"Shiny, stop," Joshua said quietly from his mother's lap. The kid was pretty scuffed up, Lawrence noted sadly, but at least he was alive. "No, Shiny, bad."

The creature growled furiously for another long minute before he backed off and retreated to a sitting position next to the family of four. Lawrence remained frozen on the ground for a second, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

"It's the glowing thing, isn't it?" he muttered as he tentatively sat up.

"Partially," Keith said, expression still stoic and unwavering. It made Lawrence nervous. "Most of it's probably over the fact that you put Josh and Nate in severe danger."

Lawrence averted his eyes, ashamed, but Nathan let out an over-dramatic groan before he could apologize for something that technically wasn't his fault. "I told you guys it was _my_ idea to go down there! Lawrence didn't do anything except save our lives."

"I, uh, did?"

Keith's eyebrows shot up on his wrinkled brow. "You don't remember? After you...absorbed that Eridium, you - "

"You started glowing!" Nathan exclaimed. He was quivering with excitement, and contrary to his parents, was sporting a wide grin on his face. "Kinda like you are now, but brighter. And then you were moving really fast, so fast that when I blinked, you were right next to me and grabbing the thresher's tentacle out of mid-air like it was nothing, and then these purple light ball thingies came out of your hands and they tore him up real good! It was so cool, Lawrence! You didn't tell us you were a _super_ hero too!"

"Hero," Joshua agreed, clapping his pudgy little hands.

Lawrence stared at him. He remembered now - the feeling of pure power surging through his veins after he grabbed that Eridium chunk. It instantly knitted his bones back together and gave him the strength, the - the _power_ to protect Nathan and eradicate that thresher like it was nothing. And he still had a good portion of that power dancing through his veins. He could see it through his tainted skin, could feel it when he shut his eyes and concentrated hard enough. It was as horrifying as it was exhilarating.

"I'm - I'm not a hero," he blurted as the feeling of being horrified won over everything else. "No way. What - what I am is...not normal."

"That much is obvious," Moira snapped. The poor woman was horribly pale; Lawrence didn't begrudge her for being terse with him, not after she almost lost her children. "When were you going to mention the fact that you're harboring these...powers?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I-I was dying, and you guys were in trouble, and I just - "

"You saved us all," Keith said softly.

Nathan nodded vigorously, still grinning. "A real hero, Lawrence!"

"I'm not a hero!" Lawrence exclaimed, stumbling backwards until he hit the door frame. His wild-eyed gaze landed on his hands - his hideous, glowing, tainted hands. "I'm just some mutated freak with an addiction to Eridium! I'm - I'm not - " He choked on a dry sob. "I'm no hero."

Moira huffed and stood up, hefting Joshua onto her hip. "It doesn't matter what you look like or how you did it. You saved my children." Her voice cracked mid-sentence. "You saved _us_. That's what heroes do, Lawrence."

Keith also rose to his feet and gently placed his hands on Lawrence's shoulders, giving him a small shake. "You should stop equating 'hero' with 'vault hunter', son," he suggested kindly.

Yeah, he really should. He was starting to realize that there were a lot of things he needed to do.

"What you did in the past will always be in the past," Keith continued as he slipped into full-on Father Mode. "You can't change it. It's a part of you now. What you _can_ do is learn from it."

Abruptly that quote that Maya had told him a while ago came to mind, the one about redemption through remembrance, or however it went. Hearing it had only made him angrier at the time because he didn't want to remember. His past was a minefield of torture, self-loathing, and pain. The present was safer.

But both Maya and Keith had a valid point, he knew now. He would never be able to move on if he didn't at least acknowledge what had happened to him. There was just one problem.

Lawrence dragged his sleeve across his nose and cheeks. "I can't remember some of it," he admitted wetly. "When Jack...did this to me. It's a giant blank spot. How do I learn anything from that?"

"Start with what you do know and go from there."

Lawrence stared at the smiling older man for a moment before he nodded. "Okay."

"Okay. Want some fried varkid wings? Heard they're all the rage with you youngsters these days."

"Yum!" Joshua agreed, halfway through devouring his own share.

Lawrence didn't need to eat, but he agreed anyway, determined to enjoy his last dinner with the Sanders family.

~

It was to no one's surprise that Lawrence decided to leave the following morning. He was completely healed, so there was no reason why Keith or the rest of his family should try to keep him from climbing his way out of the caverns. Or so Lawrence kept telling himself.

He rose early before the rest of the family, intending on sneaking away before any of them could realize he was missing, but just as he was securing his pistol in his leg holster, he heard the familiar sound of bare feet padding into his shipping container. Joshua stood a few feet away rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hungry," the boy muttered.

Lawrence bit his lip. "Go wake your mom or dad," he said quietly. "They'll make you something to eat."

"No," Joshua whined softly as he made his way to Lawrence and buried his face in his leg. His little fists balled up the material of his pants, and Lawrence’s chest began to constrict with emotion for the kid he’d left behind in Sanctuary.

Heaving a defeated sigh, Lawrence scooped the limp boy into his arms and made his way into the makeshift kitchen. He wished he could make the whole family something legitimately nutritious to eat, even if it was just plain old scrambled eggs, but canned rations and fake nutrient bars were all the stores had to offer them.

He managed to crack open a can of spam with one hand since the other was holding Joshua up and was in the process of cooking the disgusting "meat" product when a half-asleep Moira poked her head into the kitchen.

"Oh, Joshua," she tsked softly, moving to take the kid from Lawrence's grasp. "Sorry. Did he wake you?"

"It's no problem. I was already up."

Lawrence kept his gaze on the cooking pseudo-meat as Moira stared through the back of his head. He didn't need to use his freaky powers to figure out that she was sizing up his attire, taking note of the fact he was wearing his jacket for the first time since he tumbled down into their lives and that his pistol was back in its holster.

"Are you leaving?" she eventually asked, trying to keep her voice low so as not to alarm the half-asleep child on her shoulder.

He nodded, afraid to trust his voice.

"Were you planning on just sneaking away without saying goodbye?" Moira demanded, voice becoming a hiss as she got angrier. "I'd understand if it was just Keith and I, but what about the boys? They'd be crushed if you just - "

"You're _leaving_?"

Both adults turned to find a very upset Nathan standing in the fake doorway. He was practically vibrating with emotion as he yelled, "But you can't! You only just got here!"

"I've been here for over a week," Lawrence pointed out as gently as he could. "It was never my intention to stay this long."

"You can't leave!" Nathan exclaimed, waking his brother. "You - you promised you'd teach me how to shoot some more! You - you _liar_!"

The boy turned and bolted outside with an angry yell. Meanwhile, his little brother was wailing, "Don’t go! Don’t go!" and reaching for Lawrence from his spot on his mother's hip.

Lawrence heaved a sigh and sent Moira a tired look as he took the squirming kid out of her arms. "This is why I wanted to leave without warning," he grumbled, patting Joshua on the back as he wept tiredly into his glowing neck.

"They still would have been upset. Nathan might have grown up hating you for leaving without saying goodbye. At least now you have the chance to prevent that."

"I'm not staying."

"I know. But you can talk some sense into him. Explain to him your reasons, since you seem so opposed to telling the rest of us."

Lawrence's frown deepened, but Moira waved him off and began to tend to the food he had been cooking.

He made his way outside, shushing a still sniffling Joshua, and quickly located Nathan, who had planted himself in a pile of trash next to Shiny by the edge of the hill, his back to the house.

"Nathan?"

"Go away!" the pre-teen snapped without turning around. "Shiny, go eat him or something."

The crystalisk rumbled, somehow managing to make the noise sound confused and reluctant. He made no move to act on Nathan's order, which only further irritated the boy.

Lawrence sighed and came a little closer. "Nathan, will you at least let me explain?" he asked softly, kneeling down behind him.

"What's to explain? You're leaving. So leave."

"I'm scared."

Nathan's posture slowly relaxed as the tension creeped out of it. He cast a quick, confused look towards the older man, but kept quiet, still attempting to pout.

Lawrence held Joshua tightly and rocked him a little as he continued. "You and Josh think these powers of mine are cool, but honestly, they scare me. I don't understand them. I don't know how much Eridium I can take before it's too much. I'm trapped in this mutated body that I don't know how to use and I'm _scared_. I already hurt one person I love back home. What if I wind up hurting you guys?"

Nathan continued to say nothing, but it was clear that he was no longer angry, just sad.

"I've spent the last five years of my life being scared and I'm sick of it," Lawrence continued softly. "I've got these...super powers, and I need to learn how to use them so I can stop being afraid and embrace this new me. I can't learn how to do that if I'm stuck down here."

The boy continued to remain silent, save for his sniffling. Lawrence scooted a little closer.

"Heroes are supposed to protect people, right?"

Nathan nodded as he dragged the back of his hand across this cheek. A wet sob escaped him despite his efforts to keep quiet.

"How can I help people when I can't even help myself?" Lawrence scooted closer and drew the sniveling child into his arms alongside his brother. "We'll meet again. And when we do, we'll both be a lot stronger."

Nathan sniffed hard. "Promise?" he asked, voice muffled by Lawrence's shirt.

"Promise."

"Promise," Joshua echoed sleepily.

~

Saying goodbye to the whole family at once was harder than Lawrence had expected it to be. The boys started weeping again, which made Lawrence's eyes start burning with unshed tears as well. Shiny seemed just as devastated, if the way he rubbed up against Lawrence and rumbled was any indication. Moira embraced him - something that surprised him greatly considering the fact that he looked like a radioactive demon at the moment - and Keith offered him a handshake that morphed into a hug very quickly.

"Be careful," Keith rasped, quickly wiping away a stray tear that had gotten away from him. "Do you need anything before you head out? Some food? Ammo?"

Lawrence was already shaking his head. "Save your supplies. That reminds me, though: any thoughts on where you guys will go when you have to leave?"

Keith exchanged a look with his wife that was answer enough for Lawrence.

"I'm assuming you guys have heard of Sanctuary," he said. "Floating city, populated by vault hunters - can't miss it. Tell them I sent you and they should let you in no problem. You'll be safe there."

"Are you sure?" Moira asked, sounding as nervous as her husband looked. "These are the people who're looking for you, right? Won't they..." She shot a glance at her boys, who were busy mucking around near Shiny a few feet away. "Won't they try to torture us for information on your whereabouts or - or something?"

"Plus we're ex-Hyperion," Keith reminded him. "Frankly, I wouldn't blame them for turning us away. Or worse."

"They don't need to know that. Just show up as refugees, and if anyone gives you a hard time, tell them I sent you. And..." Lawrence looked around for a second. "Do you have an ECHO device I can borrow?"

Keith managed to dig one up from the very bottom of a loot crate he had stashed in the house. It had definitely seen better days, but it would do for the short message Lawrence wanted to leave.

"Give me a few minutes," he told the couple, already heading around the side of the house.

He released a heavy sigh as he plopped his ass down onto a pile of rubbish. He stared at the record button for a good minute before he finally said screw it. This wasn't a goddamned love letter. This might be the message Keith and his family will need to secure a new, safer life in the clouds.

"H-hey," he began lamely, clearing his throat. "Axton. Don't shut this off yet, please, I-I need you to listen. These people I gave this ECHO to saved my life. I owe them. Don't turn them away, okay? Be mad at me all you like. Just don't take it out on them. Please."

His finger hovered over the end recording button, but he couldn't bring himself to press it just yet.

"This isn't your fault," he added in a whisper. "Please don't live out the rest of your life thinking it was. I'm alive. I'm okay. You will be, too."

The unsaid "I miss you" teetered on his tongue, but he ended the recording before he could let it tumble out. Admitting it wouldn't let either of them move on.

He sat by himself for another moment, wallowing in his unhappiness, before he realized he was being watched. He shot a glare to his right at the two squirts and crystalisk peering around the side of the house.

"Lawrence has a boy-y-y friend," Nathan cooed, sticking his tongue out. Joshua mimicked him. Even Shiny sounded like he was mocking him with a long, warbling noise.

"Something _you'll_ never have," Lawrence teased right back as he got to his feet. "Get outta my way, ya little ankle-biters, I gotta give this to your dad."

The squirts scattered, save for Shiny, who sank into the earth and made it real hard for Lawrence to get around him, bless his stupid crystal heart. Keith was sitting by the fire and rose to his feet when Lawrence finally approached with the ECHO device.

"When you get to Sanctuary, give this to a man named Axton," he told the older man. "He...he should help. Might be kinda a prick about it, but don't let it get to you."

Keith nodded and handed the ECHO off to his wife, who immediately went to put it somewhere safe. "Thank you, Lawrence," the man said sincerely. "We'll see you around."

Lawrence grinned as he took a step away from the house. "I don't doubt it."

~

The elevator took Lawrence and his doubles right to the surface. As he predicted, he had to traverse a series of catwalks and shoddy-looking ramps to get back onto solid ground, but it didn't take too long, even with the occasional bandit popping up in an attempt to ruin his day. His doubles made quick work of anyone who stood in his path.

An hour after rising up from the caverns, Lawrence found himself standing on the snowy tundra between the old walls that once belonged to Sanctuary. There was a bandit encampment off to his right and one of Scooter's Catch-A-Ride stations to his left. For a second he thought about trying to summon a vehicle, but the threat of being tracked down again was too strong. He was on his own.

"To what are the things we of doing?" Blue asked him once the silence became too stifling.

Lawrence bit his lip. "I can't change the past," he repeated softly out loud. He had to move on, had to accept that he was no longer human. He had these powers, this gift, and he had proven that they could be used for good - assuming he could figure out how to control them. That meant digging up some answers in regards to the foggy space in his memory, and there was only one place he could think of to find those answers.

He looked at his doubles. "Which way to Lynchwood?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With that, the Caustic Caverns arc is over! Tomorrow starts one of my favorite arcs: Lynchwood.
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Some major important notes here - please read!**
> 
> One: I uploaded a chapter yesterday, so if you missed it, make sure you check it out before reading this one. 
> 
> And two: I delve into a very sensitive subject throughout the majority of this new arc: the likely scenario of bandits taking women prisoner and forcing them to have their children (a la Mad Max: Fury Road). I don’t go into detail beyond stating the fact that a handful of OCs are refugees from one such bandit camp. There is no rape in this story *period*, but it is a subject of discussion and is a scenario that could be triggering to some. If you think I should tack on a rape/non-con warning tag, please let me know and I’ll do it, though I’d prefer not to since, as I said, there’s nothing explicit in this story.

Lawrence hit the ground hard and skidded several dozen feet before coming to rest in a pile of sun-warmed dust. Exhaustion riddled his broken, battered body for a moment, but it ebbed away soon enough as his wounds healed. He had enough Eridium in his body at this point to fly to the moon, he was pretty sure, but there was no way in hell he was about to test that theory, not when he couldn't manage hurling himself a couple hundred miles away without eating shit - or, in this case, dust.

"Touch-goal," he groaned through a mouthful of sand. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and spat a soggy mouthful of the stuff out, only to openly gag at the granules still grinding up against his teeth. "Oh god, I have regrets! Agh!"

"Perhaps walking would be less painful, sir," Red suggested from somewhere close by.

"Probably. But I was testing a theory," Lawrence said as he slowly pushed himself onto his haunches. His back groaned in protest, but his body had already healed itself. If only it could remove the sand out of the places it really shouldn't be in. "I can only teleport myself to places I've been to before - places I can picture in my mind. I can hurl myself into a certain direction if I want to, but that's...not recommended." He spat out another mouthful of sand.

"Sounds logical," Red offered. "Now you just need to master landing."

"If only that was as easy as it sounds." Lawrence got to his feet, shook himself off, and squinted at the dusty expanse around him. "Where are we?"

"The Dust, as you intended. Five miles from Ellie's Garage, two from the Friendship Gulag."

Lawrence frowned at the mention of his old friend. He wondered how she was doing. He wondered how everyone was doing. He'd been gone for over a week now - plenty of time for everyone to forget him and move on with their lives. It was for the best, he reminded himself.

"And Lynchwood?" he asked.

Red turned around and pointed a holographic finger west. Lawrence followed it and took note of the large, jagged mountain rising up over the sands a few miles away. The sun was reflecting off several buildings stacked along the mountainside, but it was impossible to tell whether or not they were actually inhabited.

"You think I could teleport myself there?" he asked, putting a hand above his brow to shield his eyes from the sun. He wished he had a sniper rifle so he could at least scope the area out from afar. It was hard to make anything out past the waves of heat rising up off of the huge expanse of desert that sat in the valley surrounding the town.

"I personally don't think that's a good idea," Red said slowly. "Remember what happened in Three Horns two days ago when you teleported yourself from the caverns?"

Boy, did he. He was still pulling pieces of that goddamned Happy Pig Motel sign out of his ass.

"Okay, so I guess we're walking - "

"Spinning spike wheel of death!" Blue blurted suddenly, pointing towards a small collection of buildings a mile or so down the dunes. Lawrence could see the track from their current position. A train station, he realized. There was no way it was still functioning now, was there?

The only way to find out was to see it for himself.

It took half an hour to traverse the rolling dunes to the station. The sun beat down on him, but Lawrence felt none of it, even with his hood up and heavy jacket draped across his shoulders. He hadn't had a drink in days, nor had he eaten, but then again, he hadn't been doing either of those things for a long time. It had bothered him before, but now, as he traversed the desert alone with a satchel of Eridium shards and ammo at his hip and a bandit-brand pistol tucked in the holster on his thigh, he was very, very grateful for the mineral surging through his veins.

He stepped up onto the platform and took a look around. Abandoned, it seemed, so he wasted little time in looting the crates and boxes he found littering the area.

"Any idea when the next train will be? If there even is a train coming?" he asked Red as he tried to organize the contents of his satchel. The damn thing was made of skag hide and couldn't be overstuffed, or else the strap would snap, as he had learned a few hours after snatching the thing off some poor bastard.

"The schedule is online," Red reported, "but has not been updated in over a year. Cannot confirm."

Lawrence hummed and shot a look over his shoulder at the tracks. "Well, it's not like we're in a rush," he mused out loud, looking skyward. "It's a nice day. We'll wait for an hour or two, and if it doesn't show up, we'll start walking - "

Blue reared up and pointed at a large, imposing pillar not too far from the edge of the cliff that lead into the sandy valley surrounding Lynchwood. "Abort! Abort!" he squealed.

Red quirked a brow. "Blue is right," he said, eyes going vacant as he scanned the horizon. "There are sentries posted that will shoot trespassers on sight. Traversing on foot past them into the valley to Lynchwood is not recommended, sir."

"Well, that's fantastic," Lawrence groused, frowning up at the monolith.

"Negative, sir, this is bad news."

"Yes, _thank you_ , Captain Obvious," Lawrence hissed, shooting his double a glare. "Well, I guess we'd better hope that the train shows up sooner rather than - "

A horrible grating noise made the hair on the back of his neck and his arms stand on end. He turned to see a train, battered and rusting in places from traveling in such a brutal area, rolling up to the station, coming from the direction of Lynchwood. It screeched to a stop, and a moment later the door closest to him opened.

"...Later," Lawrence finished lamely, tentatively rising to his feet.

He was honestly surprised that the line was apparently still in use. All he knew of Lynchwood was what he had overheard Nisha and Jack talking about on occasion. Nisha had ruled the place with an iron fist, and Jack had exploited the Eridium in the mines surrounding the town.

But now they were both dead, and something told Lawrence that the town was either going to be swarming with bandits or completely deserted. As much as he didn't want to kill anyone, Lawrence knew he wouldn't get the answers he needed if he couldn't find someone there who could tell him what happened during his stay under Nisha's command. He checked his pistol, then stepped on board with his doubles in tow.

The inside of the train car was about as dirty as the outside, with about three inches of dust coating the floor by the door.

"Express train to Lynchwood," said a cheerful, automated voice from the speaker above him as he took a seat. "This is a friendly reminder from the Sheriff of Lynchwood to review all of her two-hundred-and-eighty-three laws before setting foot in her town. Breaking any of these laws is punishable by death. You have been warned."

Yup. Sounded like Nisha.

The express train lived up to it's name; the tracks must have extended fifty or so miles across the wasteland that was the Dust, yet it only took about ten minutes to travel the length of it to Lynchwood. Lawrence spent those ten minutes growing more and more nervous.

"Are you sure you wish to do this, sir?" Red asked quietly as the train began to slow down. They were at the base of the mountain now and beginning their descent upwards towards the town.

The question took Lawrence by surprise. "Something on your mind, dude?" he asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Don't be afraid to say something. You've got an artificial intelligence - use it, even if it's to tell me I'm a dumbass."

Red nodded slightly. "I am...wondering why you wish for us to go to Lynchwood," he said slowly. "Your blood pressure elevates whenever you mention the place. It makes you anxious. Why are we going there?"

"I have questions," Lawrence told his doubles. "I need answers, or I'll never...never be able to accept what happened to me in the past. I won't be able to move on."

"That is a sound explanation," Red agreed. His badass double was silent for a moment as he observed his other half, who was busy farther up the train car peering at the faded ads lining the sloping ceiling. Eventually, he spoke again. "I don't understand. I want to. But I imagine there are some things about humanity that I will never comprehend."

Lawrence flashed him a tired grin. "We're a complicated species," he agreed. "Sometimes there is no clear answer as to why we do things."

"The strange bits of data I've been finding on the ECHOnet are doing a wonderful job of supporting that claim."

Lawrence tilted his head back with a hearty laugh that soothed his nerves and, briefly, made him forget the ghosts that plagued him.

Soon enough, the train gave a long, ear-splitting squeal as it rolled through the side of the mountain, plunging the car into almost total darkness. The flickering bulb by the door was the only light source until they reached Lynchwood station a minute later. The automatic voice announced the stop as the doors slid open with a semi-threatening hiss.

Lawrence rose to his feet and took a deep breath as he sent his doubles away just in case he needed them later. Now or never, he reasoned, exiting the car.

Once off the train, the ancient vehicle gave another squeal and vanished through another dark tunnel. Lawrence slowly made his way up the nearest creaking metal staircase, wary of what he might find at the top. When no bandits popped out of the ground to ambush him, he allowed himself to relax and observe the dusty, splintered walls of the tunnel; it was littered with old, decaying wanted posters, most of which were of his friends back in Sanctuary. He came upon one of Axton and resolutely looked away, refusing to dwell on things he couldn't change.

He wound his way around a few corners before he finally set foot within the city. He was surprised to see that there were legitimate houses lining the railroad tracks that sliced through town. Most had seen better days, of course, but there were some that actually had front porches. Could it be that this place was actually settled by civilized, relatively-sane people?

He began to stroll slowly down the street alongside the train tracks, keeping his eyes on the buildings to his left and his hand on his pistol. He passed several legitimate stores; there was one across the train tracks that was advertised as a general goods store, and towards the end of the road he came upon doctor's office.

What did bandits need a clinic for? he wondered. Hell, what did they need any of this stuff for? It wasn’t like they did anything other than shoot at each other.

At the end of the street, right before the train tracks disappeared into a dark tunnel that sliced through the mountain, was a small, opened cage that looked like it had been out in the unforgiving weather for too long. Above it was the remnants of an old wooden sign, the word "trouble" just barely visible.

Something stabbed Lawrence in the back of his mind, something brutal and adamant, like a goddamned lil' skav with a jackhammer. Pulling his hood down, he touched a hand to the back of his head and breathed deeply, trying to get the pain to stop. The Eridium in his blood kicked in, bringing the pain to a dull throb in a matter of seconds, but the damage had been done.

He remembered something. This cage, the sign - they triggered something that he had long forgotten. If he shut his eyes and concentrated, he could catch flickers and wisps of a memory. They were so close. If he could just -

"Hands up, boy."

Lawrence's eyes flew open as the barrel of a gun jabbed him in the spine. He mentally cursed himself for getting distracted so easily as he slowly raised his hands into the air.

"Don't look like a local," the same accented voice drawled. "Turn 'round slowly. Keep those hands up, now."

Lawrence followed the man's orders and turned to face him, frowning deeply the whole while. The man was tall and broad - a nomad, it seemed, if his wide-brimmed hat and armor were any indication. The only thing about his getup that confused Lawrence was the giant golden star hanging from his belt like a shield for his crotch. Lawrence thankfully hadn't had a lot of contact with nomads, but even he knew that such a thing wasn't common.

"Ya come here lookin' for trouble?" the man continued. His voice was oddly soothing, though his tone remained tense. "'Cos if it's trouble ya want, ya came to the - "

He stopped dead mid-sentence and just gaped at Lawrence. His eyes and most of his mouth were covered, but Lawrence could still read the shock in his posture.

"I'll be damned," the man breathed eventually, lowering his rifle. "It...yer that boy. Jack."

"I'm not Jack," Lawrence said, instantly on edge - well, more than he had been. It usually took people a while to see past all the scars and weird sigils on his face to actually recognize him.

That made the man start, but not out of fear or disbelief. "Holy moley, and yer talkin' now!" he exclaimed, downright ecstatic. "Oh, yer collar's gone. That's probably why. How ya doin', boy? Last I saw ya, ya were bein’ hauled off by those vault hunters after they killed the Sheriff. Glad ya ain't dead."

Lawrence stared at him, numb. "You..." He swallowed thickly. Though the man seemed friendly enough now, just knowing that he had been around him while he'd been under Nisha's control made Lawrence so anxious he could puke.

The man seemed to realize he was uncomfortable and toned down his glee. "Deputy Winger," he said, extending a huge, gloved hand for Lawrence to shake. "Not sure how much ya remember 'bout yer stay here, but I like to think that we were on good terms durin' that time. Lord knows the Sheriff threw ya in the jail more often than not."

Lawrence took the man's hand in his and gave it a firm shake. "I don't remember anything," he said. "That's why I'm here. I want to know."

The deputy withdrew, now entirely nervous. "Well, uh, it ain't my business to stop ya," he said awkwardly. "Walk with me to my office and I'll do my best to tell ya everythin' ya wanna know. Though I gotta warn ya, a lot of it ain't pretty."

Lawrence just shrugged and started after him. That'd been most of his life for the past five years.

Winger led him back the way he'd come, but instead of heading towards the train station, he led Lawrence towards a tunnel off to the right. They passed by a few more fairly well-constructed buildings, including a bank of all things. Could this place really be as civilized as it appeared?

Movement caught Lawrence's eye; he looked up just in time to see the masked head of a bandit withdraw from one of the broken windows that many of the shacks sported.

"Didn't think Jack would be okay with having bandits living in his girlfriend's town," he muttered.

"No point in lordin' over a town if there ain't people livin' there," Deputy Winger pointed out. "Handsome Jack needed fodder for the mines, the Sheriff needed people she could kill for fun when she got bored or use as examples if someone broke one of her laws. It worked out for 'em." He ducked his head, a tad embarrassed. "After they passed, I might have gotten a little more lenient with allowin' people to set up camp. They ain't bad folk, really. As long as ya don't start nothin' with them, they're actually all right."

Lawrence arched a curious brow at the other man. "What's a nice guy like you doing working for a psychopath like Nisha?"

"I could ask the same thing about ya workin' for Handsome Jack," the deputy countered good-naturedly. "I was forced into doin' it at gunpoint. I dunno what she saw in me, other than the fact I could hold my own in a fight. When she and Handsome Jack swooped down here five years ago and shot up the place, I was among the few that survived. Guess that counted for somethin'."

"And you never tried to leave after Nisha died?"

"This was my home long before she showed up. I ain't goin' nowhere." He shrugged. "I know there's no point in me even callin' myself deputy anymore, but the locals still do it and I guess old habits die hard. I certainly ain't leadin' this place. Just...tryin' to make it safe for people. And if I gotta lie and flash my badge and wave my gun around to do it, then by golly that's what I'm gonna do."

Lawrence smiled at him. How strange that he kept stumbling onto the few good people that this planet had to offer.

They made it through the cave and back out into the baking sun. More ramshackle houses lined the rocky wall to the right of them, and a few dared to set up shop on the edge of the cliff on the left. Lawrence took in every little detail of the place, trying to jog his memory, but the sensation he had felt before while examining the cage by the train tracks failed to return. Nothing tickled his noggin. It was frustrating, to say the least. He didn't want the deputy to tell him anything if he could remember things gradually on his own. As nice as the guy seemed to be, Lawrence was still loathe to trust him just yet.

A few bandits prowled the streets, guns at the ready, but they paid no attention to Lawrence or the deputy as they passed by. It was weird and made Lawrence uncomfortable, but that quickly morphed into depression when he realized that he was more comfortable shooting someone rather than not.

"Here we are," the deputy said, shaking Lawrence from his morbid, self-depreciating thoughts. He was standing in front of one of the houses, though this one was slightly less shack-like and almost resembled a legitimate building. The giant cutout of a sheriff's badge plastered above it kind of ruined the image a little, but Lawrence wasn't going to mention it.

"C'mon in, make yerself at home,” Winger urged. “And don't mind the mess."

Lawrence silently followed him inside. The office actually looked like an office, with a front desk, back room, a few chairs sprawled by the door as a waiting area, and a staircase that led to what was probably the deputy's living quarters. There was hardly a mess, unless the deputy meant the papers stacked on the front desk. Wanted posters, Lawrence noted, peering down at them. Nobody he knew, at least.

"Grab one of those chairs and bring it back here," the deputy called from the back room. "Sorry, I'm not really prepared to be hostin' for anyone."

Lawrence snagged the chair with the least amount of stains and dragged it around the desk to the back room. The deputy was rushing around throwing old paperwork into a filing cabinet, snatching used dishes off the desk and tossing them into a corner - just doing whatever he could to make the place less messy.

"It's fine, sir," Lawrence said through a chuckle. "I'm not really here for tea."

"I know, but - " The deputy spun around, nearly knocking a bookshelf over with one of the armored plates on his shoulders. "Dang it, I hate this getup. One sec'."

He began to disrobe right then and there, starting with his hat. He tossed it onto the chair in the corner, then the scarf around his eyes and mouth, then his armor and heavy nomad coat, until suddenly he was a hundred pounds lighter and half as broad. Winger turned to face him, revealing that he was a middle-aged Truxican man sporting a head topped with salt and pepper hair that curled around his ears and a five o'clock shadow on his strong jaw. He had kind brown eyes that reminded Lawrence of his father, and when he smiled he revealed crooked, slightly yellowed teeth.

"Okay!" Winger declared, accent ten times as clear and pronounced now that it wasn't being muffled behind his clothes. "Ya got questions, and I think I've got some answers. Ya want anythin' to eat or drink before we get started, Jack?"

"I'm not Jack," Lawrence stated, trying to keep cool. "My name is Lawrence."

The deputy nodded. "Lawrence," he repeated, lowering himself into his chair.

Lawrence followed suit, feeling as though he was about to vomit for a multitude of reasons.

Winger sent him a concerned look. "Ya sure ya don't want water? Ya look mighty pale, boy."

"I...water would be fine, thank you."

Instead of getting up, Winger leaned over to snag his belt and pulled the canteen off of it. "S'all I got right now, unfortunately. If ya need more, ya can go down to the well and fetch some. I recommend boilin’ it before ya drink it, though."

"This is fine, thanks," Lawrence told him, accepting the canteen. He took a generous swig to wash away the sand and grit that had gathered in there after face-planting into the ground earlier. The liquid still tasted like blood in his mouth, but he was grateful for its cleansing presence nonetheless.

"When was the last time ya had a drink?" Winger asked through a small chuckle. "Hope ya didn't wander here on foot. The Dust is unforgivin’ this time of year."

"No, I took the train. But it has been a while since I last had anything to drink." Lawrence rubbed his stubbly chin. "Maybe a week."

Winger's eyes bugged out of their sockets. "Lord, boy, how have ya not shriveled up already?" He paused and looked up at him from under his thick eyelashes. "I don't mean to be rude, but does it have anythin' to do with the whole...purple glow thing ya got goin' on?"

"Bingo." Lawrence took another swig, this one smaller. "You don't seem all that surprised."

Winger shook his head. "Ya were glowin’ quite a bit durin’ yer stay here,” he said. “Figured the collar was responsible for a lot of the strangeness. I wasn't supposed to really interact with ya, but the Sheriff never fed ya and I got worried."

"You're not wrong. Thanks for caring enough to try, at least."

"Someone had to," Winger muttered, frowning down at his folded hands. "The Sheriff barely looked at ya once Handsome Jack brought ya over here. It was only after...after he died that she remembered ya existed."

Lawrence swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. "Did she..."

Winger's head shot up. "Oh, lord, no! Not - not that I was aware of," he babbled, turning pale. "She did try once after Handsome Jack died, but gave up when ya didn't, er, respond. I think it was the grief that made her try."

Well, that was one major concern out of the way. Lawrence felt ten times lighter with that knowledge safely tucked away in his brain.

"That's not to say she didn't hurt ya in other ways," Winger continued, shaking his head. "She took her grief out on all of us. Murdered half the population and brutalized the rest. She must've really loved that crazy son of a skag."

"I don't doubt she did. They made a great team of psychopaths," Lawrence grunted, rubbing his face. "But we're getting off topic. I need to know what happened to me after Jack slapped that collar around my neck."

"I can only tell ya what happened while ya were here, which ain’t much considerin' ya were only here for, say, maybe five months."

"Oh," Lawrence said, blinking in surprise. That didn't even account for half of the time he'd been a brainless zombie, he realized, scowling. He had spent well over a year under Jack's control, probably more. His timeline was still rather jumbled.

"I'm not sure if the Sheriff would have anything about ya lying around here," Winger continued. "She didn't really deal with anythin' outside of suckin' face with her boyfriend or shootin' up the locals. She left all the paperwork to me, and in all the years I've been doin' her job, I ain't never come across anythin' about ya."

Lawrence nodded, sighing. He had a feeling that would be the case.

He must have looked mighty pitiful, because Winger hastily added, "There's some tech upstairs that she'd use sometimes. I dunno what for. I can try accessin' it to see if there's anythin' in it for ya, but I ain't the best when it comes to this newfangled technology nonsense, so it might take some time. Ya got anywhere to go?"

"Go?"

"I mean, where do ya lay yer head at night?"

Lawrence shrugged. "I don't."

"Oh. Well, if yer interested, there're a couple of shacks along the street outside that’re vacant. Ya can set up shop there for a bit while I deal with this."

"That's kind of you," Lawrence said, flashing him a smile that quickly faded. "You, uh, think this is going to take long?"

Now it was Winger's turn to send him a tired look. "I know this is important to ya," he began, "and I wanna help ya, kid. But my job comes first, and I'm late for my afternoon patrol as it is. I promise ya I'll start diggin' through the Sheriff's stuff tonight."

Lawrence did his best to swallow his irritation, but he had never been good at the whole patience thing when he really, really wanted something, even before he started working for Jack. Still, he had to remind himself that finding someone actually willing to help him out was a huge stroke of luck, and that he really shouldn't be complaining about it. He had gone almost a whole year without answers; he could wait another day or two.

"Thanks," he said, rising to his feet. "I appreciate this, sir."

"Of course," Winger said. "I'll let ya know when I find somethin'."

Lawrence nodded and headed towards the door, mind whirling with too many thoughts to keep track of. He almost didn't hear Winger call his name.

"Before ya go," the deputy said, poking his head out of the office, "do _not_ let on that ya used to be a vault hunter. Hearin' the title 'round these parts is enough to set a lotta folk off. They ain't heroes 'round here - not when they come 'round shootin' up the place and lootin' the good people they've slaughtered."

The deputy's words were sharp and bitter with an undercurrent of what was undoubtedly a threat. Lawrence wasn't about to argue with him, so he nodded in affirmation and stepped back into the sweltering Lynchwood street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	51. Chapter 51

Lynchwood's streets were dusty, littered with garbage and the remnants of broken pavement, and crawling with armed bandits every which way Lawrence looked. The houses were run down and comprised of a mishmash of shipping containers, legitimate structures that had at one point been used as buildings, and, in some cases, old car chassis. The southern part of Gunslinger's Corner was more densely populated, whereas the houses near the entrance to the tunnel Winger had walked him through earlier were a little more spaced out.

Sanctuary might have been smaller than this town, Lawrence realized the longer he perused the street. There was an entire neighborhood up higher on the side of the mountain, he noted. He wasn't quite sure how to get up there. If Winger was going to be coming to him with information, though, he should probably try to find a place close to the deputy's office.

He was investigating a one-room shack half his height not too far from said office when he felt eyes on him. Sure enough, when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw half a dozen bandits staring at him from a few feet away. Some recoiled at the sight of his glowing eyes. One of them, the biggest, meanest-looking of the bunch, openly sneered and came closer.

"You one of those escaped slagged freaks from the preserve?" he slurred, turning slightly so that Lawrence could see the gun in his other hand.

Why did people keep asking him that? First Moira, now this assclown. What the hell was this preserve anyway? Lawrence made a mental note to check that place out at some point. If Lynchwood didn't have any answers, maybe this preserve did.

"Hey!" the bandit snapped, snagging him by the front of his jacket and gave him a threatening shake. "You really gonna ignore a dude waving a gun in your face, you piece of shit? I ought'a blow your fuckin' head off - "

Lawrence lowered his head and bit the guy's hand hard enough to break the skin. The bandit let out a very unmanly shriek and yanked his limb away as the rest of his gang recoiled in terror. Lawrence subtly bit his tongue in that same instance, purposefully dribbling some Eridium-tainted blood out from between his lips as he slurred, "Enjoy being a purple freak."

The bandit burst into tears as he gripped his bleeding hand to his chest. A few of his buddies came over to comfort him and usher him off to the clinic near the entrance to town.

Lawrence expected the remaining bandit to either attack him or go about his business now that his leader was incapacitated, but he just stood there staring at him. With his mask and goggles on, it made it impossible to tell what he was thinking.

"You're the first one to do that in a while," he said after a long minute of staring. He sounded fairly normal.

"Do what?" Lawrence rasped, trying to keep up the 'don't bother me I'm dangerous' facade. It didn't seem to be working on this guy.

"Stand up to Ethan. Most newbies give in and do whatever the dickbag wants. You sure showed him, though."

Lawrence stared at him. "I guess," he muttered, not knowing what else to say.

The bandit stuck a gloved hand out. "Larry," he said.

"Lawrence." He took the man's hand against his better judgement, half expecting the guy to whip out a gun with his free hand and shoot him, but he didn't.

"You lookin' for a place to call your own?" Larry asked, nodding towards the little shack behind Lawrence.

"For now."

Larry nodded in understanding and pointed at a place down the street, by one of the abandoned skag chew stands. "Ethan's place is that two-story building there. Claimed it when he mowed down the last big shot. It's yours now, if you want it."

"Oh, I don't need all that space," Lawrence said, shaking his head. "Thank you, though."

Larry tilted his head. "You're a strange fella. And I don't mean the whole radioactive thing you got goin' on, though that is pretty weird. Accident?"

"You could say that. Um, do you know of anywhere else I can stay? One that I can like, stand up in without bashing my forehead open would be great."

Larry hummed. "Well, my place is right there," he said, gesturing to one of the many ramshackle buildings lining the street.

It was on the edge of the cliff, but not enough to make Lawrence think that the whole damn thing might slide off if someone sneezed. Perched on top of it was an old Pandora billboard that had long since been eroded and broken down by the elements, which really wasn't any different from the rest of the structures in the area. It had a half-finished porch by the front door and a tarp that shielded it from the pounding sunlight, though it was more or less shaded by the billboard anyway. Quaint, but it was better than the box Lawrence had been looking at a moment earlier.

"Tell you what, Larry," he began, forcing a smile onto his face, "I'll trade you. Two story for the one room. Sound like a deal?"

"Oh, gosh," Larry babbled as his stance shifted into one that relayed his bashfulness. "I haven't done anything to deserve it, though."

"You were nice to me," Lawrence suggested. "That's something, right? And hey, if you need another reason, how about you give me a quick tour of the town? The house can be your payment."

It only took the bandit a second to weigh the pros and cons of such a deal. "Alrighty," he said cheerfully. "One tour comin' up. Let's head back towards the train station and we'll go from there. Sound good?"

"Lead the way."

Larry was a talkative guy, Lawrence quickly learned as they made their way back towards what he now knew was Main Street. He didn't mind the babbling; it kept his mind off of things, like the very high possibility that Deputy Winger wasn't going to be able to dig up anything to help him. A part of him was hoping that he'd see something to jiggle his memory like before, but no such luck in that department, either.

"That's the Saloon," Larry said, pointing to the place as they strolled by. "It's usually pretty packed, 'specially come dusk. Run by a mean guy with a penchant for punching out his customers if they get too rowdy. The booze is decent, but the company...well, not so much."

He gestured in the directions of the train tracks, which Lawrence could see at the end of the alleyway they'd stopped in front of. "Across the way there's the general store. Used to get daily shipments in from Hyperion, but there's not much there these days, unless you need some bullets or hardhats."

"I saw it when I first arrived," Lawrence said. "You've also got a clinic?"

"Yup, run by one Doctor Mackowsky," Larry said, sounding like he was smiling. "Like, a legit doctor. Can you believe it? She'd been working for Hyperion up until the Sheriff croaked, then she cut all ties with 'em. Pretty ballsy move, don't you think? There ain't nothin' down here for anyone, but Doc Mack still chose us over Hyperion 'cos we need her. That's the sign of a good person, I think - putting other people's needs before your own. Don't get a lot of that these days no matter where you go."

"Well, you're a nice guy, Larry," Lawrence pointed out, flashing him a toothy grin. "Helping me out like this, trading me your own house to live in. Why'd you become a _bandit_ of all things?"

"A what? Oh - that's what you folk call us, right, I forgot."

Lawrence froze, realizing too late his slip-up. "I'm not - I mean, I don't know what you're talking about."

"It’s fine," Larry said, chuckling. "You vault hunters stick out like a sore thumb - and I don't mean because you're lit up brighter than a tree on Mercenary Day morning." He shrugged. "But to answer your question - I didn't choose to become anythin’. I'm just trying to survive like everyone else on this planet. Believe it or not, I'm still human beneath the mask. Somethin' you guys seem to forget a lot when you're mowin' us all down."

The statement wasn't meant to be unkind, Lawrence knew, but it still made him frown. "To be fair, nine times out of ten you guys start shooting at us first."

"Only 'cos we know who you are and what you'll do to us if we don't try to get the upper hand first." Larry said, shrugging again. "Not tryin' to pick a fight, sir. Just tellin' you what our parents taught us."

How fucking ironic, Lawrence thought. He'd just spent a week and a half with a family who thought vault hunters were heroes, yet here he was now surrounded by people who openly feared and hated them. Keith's words about good versus evil and how it didn't apply to this side of the galaxy filtered through his mind so fast that Lawrence nearly got whiplash from it.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, looking up at the other man.

"Well, _you_ haven't shot up the place yet!" Larry exclaimed, offering him a gentle pat on the back. "You don't have anything to apologize for, friend."

Oh, he had a ton of personal baggage that he would never be done apologizing for, he figured. But at least in regards to Lynchwood, he was in the clear. For now. With Red's tracking device disabled, the chances of anyone from Sanctuary finding him were close to zero. Hyperion could still unleash hell on him, but he doubted they'd be willing to rain mortars and loader bots down so close to the Eridium mine - and that was assuming the moonshot cannon was even back online. The people of Lynchwood should be safe for now.

Larry led him back the way they'd come, still talking up a storm about mundane things. It was like listening to his grandmother speak - something that would have annoyed Lawrence to no end had he been six years old again on Eden. He didn't mind it now.

They came out of the tunnel and back into the harsh desert sun. Lawrence frowned and went to put a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the light when a wooden overhang jutting out from the upper level of town caught his attention.

"What's up there? Just more houses?"

"That's the Sisters' area," Larry explained, voice dropping into a rough whisper. His entire posture changed; suddenly he was the kind of guy Lawrence would have shot no questions asked back on Elpis. "It's a sacred area. We don't tread up there unless we're invited by the Sisters, or Deputy Winger gives us permission."

"Sisters?"

"The Seven Sisters, plus Eg, all dressed in white like some holy beings from the stars." Larry stepped back and shrugged, laughing. "Well, so says the local gossip, anyway. Haven't seen 'em myself, but sometimes if you look up at the right time, you can catch a few of their children peerin' down on us mortal men."

"Uh huh," Lawrence said slowly. "Larry, um, don't take this the wrong way, but when was the last time you had some water?"

"Water's the clear, metal-tastin' stuff, right?"

Lawrence huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah. Let's get you some of that before you pass out on me, okay?"

The man readily agreed and allowed Lawrence to lead him back to Gunslinger's Corner. They passed a pump on the way, allowing Larry to get a much needed mouthful of water that probably wouldn't help his mental state any, but at the very least it would keep him from croaking under all of that gear. When he flipped his mask up to his nose, Lawrence caught a glimpse of dark skin and a maw full of crooked teeth.

"Don't want any?" Larry asked, moving away from the pump. He rolled his mask back down, vanishing behind the bandit facade once more.

"Don't need any."

Larry stared at his colorful friend. "That condition of yours isn't really contagious, is it?"

Lawrence snorted out a laugh and shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of, no. Don't worry about Ethan - "

"Oh, I'm not. Prick deserved the scare. I was kinda hoping whatever you've got is transmittable. Do you know how much easier life out in the desert would be if I could go without needing a drink every five minutes?"

"I can imagine." Lawrence sighed and glanced down at the dusty ground. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. I can't taste a goddamned thing anymore. I miss food!"

"You ever have skag chews?" He gestured to the sad little concession stand off to their left that had what looked like small, baby skags hanging from hooks. Lawrence's stomach clenched at the sight of them.

"Uh, no - "

"Well, that's all we got 'round here to eat these days, so be grateful you can't taste shit. 'Cos that's what it tastes like. Shit."

Lawrence laughed. "I'll take your word for it."

They started down the street again. Up the road near the Sheriff's office were two men having a fight over something or other; it ended in a shootout that left both men wounded but alive and very, very irritated.

"That how you guys solve most of your problems around here?" Lawrence asked, watching as the men began to drag themselves down the road towards the Doc Mack's clinic.

"That's how the Sheriff wanted us to do it, yeah," Larry said, shrugging. "Honestly, it's better than like, setting fire to each other's houses or something. That actually happened once. D'you know how fast a fire'll spread in a place like this? Half the town was gone in minutes. The Sheriff was a mean woman, but some of her methods worked."

Lawrence grunted, not wanting to talk about her anymore. His eyes flicked to the building behind them with the half-done porch. "This one's yours, right?"

"Not anymore." Larry sounded like he was grinning. "Unless you're going back on your word, friend?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, buddy. Have fun in your two-story dream house."

Larry laughed. "I think I will! Though I might just close off the second floor and let someone else live there. There're a few homeless guys that hang out near the end of the rail tracks that could probably use it more than I could."

"Jesus, man. You're too precious for this world, Larry."

"I like to think a lot of us are." Larry's head tilted just enough to make Lawrence think that the guy had just winked at him. "Wanna help me lug all my crap to my new house?"

As if he could say no to the guy when he sounded so hopeful.

By the time he was done helping Larry move all of his junk into his new abode, the sun was setting. A chill was quickly falling upon the area - not that Lawrence could tell, but the town's occupants all seemed to be pulling their cloaks and coats tighter around their shoulders as they headed home or to the saloon to drown their sorrows. Lawrence debated on checking the place out for himself, but knew it would just be a waste of time. Though, if he ever needed cash, he could bet everyone in town that he could drink them under the table. That was surely better than his usual method of collecting money.

"I left the cot for you," Larry told him before he headed off for his new temporary home. "A few cabinets and a safe for you to keep your coin. Do you need some food? Ethan has a huge stash in here, the little turd. I knew he was hoardin’ the good stuff."

"I'm good," Lawrence told him, offering him a parting smile. "Thanks, dude. Seriously."

Larry gave him a thumbs up before shutting the door on his new house. Lawrence started off for his own abode, eager to just unwind after being on the move all day. The ceiling scraped against the sprouts of curly red-gray hair on the top of his head, but he could make it through the front door without busting his face open, so he wasn't about to complain about it. The cot was fairly stable and equipped with a blanket that didn't look too filthy. There was a small lamp perched on the half-rusted metal table that spanned the length of the room underneath the boarded up window. When he flicked the lamp on, it filled the room with a warm glow.

The place was cozy, he decided, feeling himself smile as he lowered himself onto the cot. And it was his now. He hadn't had his own place to lay his head since - wow, since that ratty little apartment he'd had in college, which, now that he looked around and thought about it, wasn't too different from this room. Even the place he shared with Axton wasn't technically his. For the first time in a long time, he was in his own place, and all he'd had to do to get it was bite a dude. Sometimes bandit tactics prevailed.

As comfortable as he was, Lawrence still found himself unable to relax. Sleep wasn't a thing he did anymore, but he could still bring himself into a trance-like state if he put Maya's teachings to good use. That didn't seem to be working now, unfortunately, so he rose to his feet and headed outside, trying to clear his head.

He stepped out onto the porch and lowered himself into the lone plastic chair someone had left out. It creaked, but didn't break under his weight - not that anyone would have seen him fall on his ass if it did. The streets were long deserted, the houses lining Gunslinger's Corner lit up from within as their occupants got ready to end the day.

Faintly, Lawrence could hear singing. At first he thought it might be coming from the saloon, but he realized soon enough that the wind was carrying the sound of cheer down from the portion of the neighborhood that rose above the street - the Sisters' turf. He lifted his gaze and found himself staring at a cluster of shadows at the edge of the cliff.

He held their gaze, too stunned for a moment to even blink. It was too dark to make out any of their features beyond their wind-whisked hair, but he could tell that there were at least three of them.

Larry's words about the Sisters' children flickered through his head. He didn't doubt that there were people living up there. Child bandits shouldn't have been a surprise, either. They had to come from somewhere, right? It just sucked to think that so many of them would grow up, only to die a terrible death at the hands of someone like Lawrence.

He caught himself and snorted. Half a day in a bandit camp and he was already thinking like them, at least according to what Larry had told him earlier. Well, he wasn't going to side with any faction, he decided. He wasn't a vault hunter or a bandit. He was just some dude with super powers on a quest for answers about his past.

"I'm a goddamn video game protagonist," he muttered, huffing out a laugh. Actually, that could be a neat idea for a story if he ever got his hands on another ECHO device. Too bad he'd left his at Sanctuary.

The sound of something hitting the dirt not too far from his porch caught his attention. He squinted through the dark and saw a small, round ball half the size of his fist. It was stitched together from different pieces of fabric and, when he bent over to pick it up, realized it was weighted down with something mildly heavy - rocks or a chunk of metal, perhaps.

He chucked it back up to the little shadows, being sure to aim higher than necessary just so they didn't try to fumble for the damn thing and wind up losing their balance over the edge of the cliff. They scattered after it as it soared over their heads. Dimly, Lawrence heard the sound of giggles that could only spawn from children.

A minute later, the ball hit the ground by his feet.

"Okay," he said quietly, turning his glowing eyes back to the shadows above him. "You wanna play? Let's play, kiddos."

He picked up the ball and hurled it back. Eventually, it hit the ground by his feet again, and a chorus of childish giggles met his ears as the shadow kids returned to their post by the edge of the cliff. Lawrence wasted little time in tossing the ball skyward once more.

The game went on for several mind-numbing minutes. The kids didn't seem to tire from doing the same thing over and over again, and neither did Lawrence, who was grateful to have something to distract him from his thoughts.

Before he could chuck the ball up for yet another round, though, there came a commotion from the cliff side. The three shadows recoiled slightly before disappearing away from the edge. Lawrence was about to get concerned when someone wearing all white appeared - a woman, if her figure and flowing hair were any indication. Lawrence felt his jaw fall open at such an ethereal sight. He could see now where the rumors and gossip would come from.

The woman stared at him for a long, tense minute before she too vanished from the cliff, leaving Lawrence craning his neck at empty night air. The ball felt heavy in the palm of his hands - his tainted, glowing hands. He looked down at it and frowned. He wouldn't want his kids near him either when he looked the way he did.

He returned to his cot, officially feeling like shit, and resigned himself to suffering through one long, lonesome night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Larry the Bandit for president.
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	52. Chapter 52

"Morning, Deputy," Lawrence called as he rapped his knuckles on the front door of the building. The door was open - it was always open - but it didn't hurt to let the man know he was coming in, especially since he was knocking at the asscrack of dawn.

"Lawrence," Winger said from the back office. He sounded distant and weak, and when Lawrence worriedly entered the room, he saw that the man looked just as tired. There were papers spread out all over his desk, some of which had fallen to the floor in great yellowed piles.

"Jesus, dude, did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

"I promised I'd try to find ya somethin'," Winger said, offering him a crooked smile that quickly faded. "I went through all of our files and ECHO logs, but none of 'em have anythin' to do with ya let alone about yer, uh, procedure."

Lawrence nodded, only a little disappointed. He had a feeling it wouldn't be so simple.

"I haven't checked the machine upstairs yet," Winger added hastily, no doubt noticing the defeated look in Lawrence's gaze. "Somethin' tells me that thing's gonna be locked down with all sorts of codes and passwords and whatnot, since the Sheriff never let any of us near the damn thing. Not that we'd know how to use it."

"Leave it for tomorrow, then," Lawrence suggested. "You could probably use a nap."

Winger hummed in agreement, yet he still rose to his feet and began to don his deputy armor. "I got a job to do 'round here first," he said, almost falling over when he reached for his boots.

Lawrence felt a pang of guilt stab him in the ribs. "Let me help," he offered. "What do you need done?"

"I'm just doin' my morning patrol, kid. No need to help with that, unless ya mean to carry me 'round town."

"If you want," Lawrence said, only half-joking. "At least let me come with you so I can catch you when you pass out."

"Oh ye of little faith."

Winger made no other motion to dismiss his presence, however, so Lawrence followed him out the door and into the street. The sun was barely in the sky, yet it was already starting to heat up.

"I saw ya talkin' with Larry yesterday. Decent man. Did he give ya a tour of the place?" Winger asked as they headed left, towards the east part of town.

"Yeah, he did. He...also mentioned something called the Seven Sisters," Lawrence said slowly.

Winger's steps faltered for a second. Lawrence wondered if he was going to try to dodge the question, but then the deputy was sighing and lowering his broad shoulders. "The Seven Sisters," he confirmed, nodding towards the upper part of town. "And Eg."

"Larry said they're goddesses." Lawrence recalled the image of the woman clad in white he saw on the cliff. He'd seen some really, really weird shit during his lifetime, so he honestly wouldn't be surprised if they were some sort of supernatural beings.

But Winger chuckled lightly. "No, no. Just a couple'a women and their children that we took in a few months ago. They escaped from a bandit camp not too far from here." The deputy's mood soured. "They used 'em as, uh, slaves."

His tone left no doubt in Lawrence's mind as to what kind of work the women had been forced to do. It made his gut churn with disgust.

"They're safe here," Winger continued softly. "I dunno what started the rumors about goddesses and holy bein's and whatnot, but if it keeps the locals from buggin' the poor ladies, I ain't gonna try to correct 'em."

Lawrence nodded. "Your rounds take you up that way, right? Can you give this back to the kids?" He held out the raggedy little ball he'd spent a portion of the night tossing back and forth. "They chucked this at me last night. We played catch for a bit until a woman - their mom, I guess - chased them away."

Winger stared at the ball. "It ain't often the kids willfully interact with the locals," he muttered.

"Well, they probably thought I was a living nightlight or something," Lawrence said, gesturing to himself.

The deputy merely grunted, still distracted by this new information. "I suppose there ain't no reason why ya can't return it yerself," he said slowly, like he was testing the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth. "Under my supervision, of course."

Lawrence's brows shot up. "Seriously? I mean, I'm cool with it." He wouldn't deny that he was curious as to what kind of women and children lurked on the upper level of town.

Winger seemed to sense this was the case. "No funny business while we're up there," he growled, sounding like a grumpy old man sick of putting up with these kids and their nonsense. "Lord knows they give me enough trouble. Don't need it coming from ya, too."

"You got it, sir," Lawrence said, grinning as they started off for the northern side of Gunslinger's Corner.

They walked through another tunnel, this one not nearly as tall or wide as the first. There were houses carved into the walls of the tunnel, Lawrence noted, as well as another one of those goddamned skag chews concession stand things. This town was full of them. That and car chassis. He was sure that by the end of his stay in Lynchwood, he would be seeing both those horrid things in his dreams - assuming he ever started sleeping again.

At the end of the tunnel was a working elevator that groaned under their added weight, but thankfully managed to chug its way to the top without issue. Lawrence went to get off the damn thing before it collapsed, only to let out a choked noise when Winger suddenly grabbed him by the front of his jacket and slammed him none too gently into the side of the wall.

"Winger, what - "

"I've hanged men for sneakin' up here, thinkin' they could pull a fast one on me 'cos I'm kind," Winger said quietly, voice nothing more than a growl that Lawrence felt resonating in his rib cage. "I like ya, kid, but I will gladly wring yer neck if ya so much as look at the Sisters and Eg the wrong way."

"Whoa, hey, man, I wouldn't do that," Lawrence choked out, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm not exactly a noob when it comes to being forced into doing something without my consent."

That reminder significantly mollified the deputy. Winger released him and took a step back. "Right," he said, sounding almost embarrassed by his own behavior.

The upper level of the town had a houses and buildings as well, though a few of them seemed to have been used at some point for industrial use rather than residential. A large pipeline was running along overhead - distributing the town's water supply, Lawrence figured, noting how one of the pipes stemmed into a large water tower over the building he and Winger had just exited while another turned sharply into the ground in the middle of this part of town. A huge, orange tarp that had seen better days was stretched across a two sections of the pipeline, no doubt in an attempt to shield some of the houses from the fierce Pandoran sunlight.

Winger gestured to him to follow. It didn't seem like anyone was up at this hour, but Winger seemed determined to make his usual rounds anyway. Lawrence was content to follow him around and take in the sights.

Movement caught both of their gazes. Near one of the smaller houses was a young man in the process of tossing out a bag of garbage into a nearby dumpster that was already overflowing with trash.

"No sudden movements, now," Winger said to him as they approached the kid. "Eg's twitchy 'round strangers, to say the least."

Eg was a young thing, pale as the snow that covered the mountains in the Frozen Wastes and thinner than a kid his age should have been. His hair was a golden brown and hung in thin, limp clumps by his lightly freckled shoulders, which peeked out from underneath the wide neck of his plain white tunic shirt. When he turned to face them, Lawrence took note of his plain yet soft features: his sad blue eyes, freckled cheeks, and full lips made him appear almost feminine.

"Mornin', Eg," Winger said, tilting his hat. "Yer up mighty early. How goes the farm?"

The kid shifted from foot to foot, clearly on edge. "Fine," he whispered in a high, shaking voice that betrayed his youth. His eyes kept darting between the ground at his feet and Lawrence, like he was waiting for him to explode or something.

Winger gestured to Lawrence. "This is my new friend, Lawrence. Just came to town yesterday. He's a good man. Don't ya fret none."

"Hi," Lawrence said, lifting an arm to wave at the kid.

If the deputy's words had done anything to put the kid at ease, his efforts were instantly rendered useless by the simple motion. The movement made Eg flinch violently and almost drop the trash can in his hands.

Lawrence recoiled slowly, suddenly now hyper-aware of the kid's hunched shoulders and the trembling that wracked his body. For a split second, Lawrence was staring at himself, freshly detoxed by the Sanctuary crew and afraid of his own shadow.

"Sorry," he whispered, taking a step back. He tried to make himself look as small as possible. "It's the glowing thing, isn't it? Don't worry, I'm not contagious."

Eg didn't even crack a smile. He took another step back, then darted back into his house, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Lawrence's shoulders slumped. "Well, I fucked _that_ up."

"Eg was in the same boat as the women," Winger explained quietly, spitting the words out. He began to move again, and Lawrence started after him as he continued. "Hadn't been there as long, but the torture was just the same. He's...not well. But I like to think that he's better here than he'd ever be back there."

"No, I agree with you there." Lawrence hated himself for not picking up on that sooner. "I think he's officially terrified of me."

"Maybe, maybe not. Most men make him nervous." Winger's pace slowed. "Actually, ya could probably help him."

"Me? I thought we just established that I scare the shit out of him - "

"Rape is rape," Winger snapped, turning to look at him. Lawrence couldn't see much of his face, but he didn't need to see his expression to know that he was upset. "However different the circumstances, in the end ya were both forced into doing things ya couldn't control. How did ya cope?"

Lawrence released a small breath through his teeth. "I had friends. Very patient friends."

"Maybe that's what Eg needs, too. He has the Sisters to lean on, but they're busy taking care of their own most of the time."

"Their own?"

Lawrence barely had the words out of his mouth before a gaggle of giggling children darted past them. There were three of them, two boys being chased by an older girl, who noticed they weren't the only ones on the playground anymore. She was maybe fifteen, with big brown eyes and dark hair cropped short around her ears.

"Mornin', Mr. Deputy!" she exclaimed, skidding to a halt long enough to flash him a wave and a big grin.

"Mornin', Farren. Don't run those little ankle-biters too ragged this early."

"I won't," the teenager said in a sing-songy tone that clearly stated she intended to do exactly the opposite. She started off again, only to notice Lawrence and nearly trip over her own two feet. "Oh! The Lantern Man!"

Her exclamation caused the two boys - one near her age and another probably around seven or eight - to poke their heads around the building they had taken refuge behind and gape at him through wide eyes.

Lawrence stared right back at the trio. "Lantern Man? Really?" he echoed, arching a brow in disbelief. Well, he supposed he could have achieved a worse name, like Radioactive Face or The Purple Wonder.

"'Cos you glow in the dark like a lantern," the older boy said, rolling his eyes in a silent 'duh.'

"Except you're way prettier," the younger boy added. He was missing his front teeth as well as his left hand and a little bit of his forearm. "Purple's my favorite color."

Lawrence couldn't help the grin from popping onto his face. "Oh, so you three are the ones responsible for last night's awesome game of catch?" He knelt down and held out the little cloth ball to the younger boy. "I believe this is yours."

The trio giggled. Both boys reached for the ball, but the older one snagged it first. The younger didn't seem to care; apparently he just wanted to hold Lawrence's hand. The kid took one of his long fingers between his index and thumb and gave it a little jiggle, cooing.

"My alter-ego's name is Lawrence," he told them, watching as the kid continued to investigate his glowing palm.

"I like Lantern Man better," the younger one grumbled, tracing one of the swirls with a finger.

"That's fine, too. Do you guys have names?"

"I'm Farren," the girl declared before the other two could get a word in. "This punk is Otto, and that's Arvo. Oh, and that's Eg creeping on you guys from behind the car."

Sure enough,when Lawrence glanced over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of wide blue eyes peering out from over the old red van chassis in front of his house. Eg recoiled slowly, brows furrowing as his pale face lit up with a flush. He slowly slunk away, embarrassed at being caught.

"What a loser," Otto muttered under his breath, only to let out a yelp when Farren slapped him upside the head. The boy snapped some brutal, choice words at her, but Farren didn't seem bothered in the slightest by his rude mouth. Must be a usual occurrence, Lawrence mused.

Deputy Winger cleared his throat, cutting Otto off before he could say anything else. "Farren, is yer Ma around? I wanna check in."

"Sure thing, Mr. Winger," the young lady said, gesturing for him to follow her towards one of the larger buildings in the area. Arvo went with her, waving goodbye to the Lantern Man as he sped away.

Despite not having any visible facial features beneath his hat and scarf, Winger still sent Lawrence a pointed look as he started after the girl, one that said two things: "I'm watching you" and "Go talk to that boy." Lawrence understood both perfectly and gave the man a short nod of affirmation.

He turned to look over his shoulder again and spotted Eg creeping by the side of his house, his back to them now as he went about his business.

"Don't bother talking to him," Otto said suddenly, jerking his head in Eg's direction. "He's a spaz around guys. Even nice ones like the deputy."

Lawrence frowned as he got up and dusted his knees off. "You don't think he has a right to be nervous around dudes after all he's been through?"

Otto shrugged. "He's a man. He needs to grow a pair and get over it."

Something told Lawrence that this teenager had been right on the cusp of being turned into another faceless bandit when he and his family escaped the camp. The kid's nonchalance about what had happened to people in his family really struck a nerve within Lawrence, but he steeled his anger and instead chose to walk away before he accidentally unleashed hell.

As he got closer to Eg's location, he pulled off his hood, thinking that maybe it would make him look less like a bandit and more normal, only to immediately roll his eyes at his own stupidity. He looked like an Eridian warrior, for fuck's sake. He would never look "normal" again - whatever "normal" was on this stupid planet.

Still, he figured it might be worth a shot. Lawrence approached the kid from behind, but stopped a dozen feet from him. He went to speak, but instead chose to knock gently on the van chassis to announce his presence.

The kid jerked and whirled around. His lips were a thin line as he took in Lawrence's appearance.

"Hi again," Lawrence offered quietly. "I'm sorry for scaring you earlier."

Eg remained frozen. Lawrence was almost sure the kid wouldn't respond beyond fleeing from him, but lo and behold: "It - it's fine," the kid said quietly. Slowly his shoulders began to relax, but his eyes remained wide and unblinkingly focused on Lawrence, like a rabbit sensing imminent danger. "Your name is Lawrence, right?"

"Yes. And you're...Egg? Like, the food?"

That got a half-smirk from the boy - nothing more than a quick upturn of the corner of his mouth, but progress was progress, dammit. "Egbert," he elaborated. "Eg's just easier. Sounds better than 'Bert', anyway."

Lawrence grinned. "Alright, Eg. Some people call me Law, if it's easier for you. Arvo seems to like Lantern Man best."

The boy's bright eyes flicked downwards. "Okay."

A brief, awkward silence hung between the two men. Lawrence was quick to stifle it.

"Deputy Winger said that you've got a farm in progress," he tossed out there.

Suddenly he was looking at an entirely different kid - a flicker of what he was before he'd been stolen away by bandits. "Yes!" Eg exclaimed, almost grinning. Lawrence caught a glimpse of straight, white teeth - an unusual thing for Pandorans. "Well, it's more like a garden. There isn't enough space on the mountain for a legitimate farm, unfortunately."

"I grew up on a farm on Eden. Wheat, mostly, but my mom had a little garden she'd have me help out with every summer. Maybe I could offer some pointers?"

A series of quick, conflicting emotions ran across Eg's face. It was like the sensible part of his mind was telling him not to trust this weird, glowing stranger - honestly, Lawrence couldn't blame him for that - but the promise of someone actually being genuinely interested in his hard work was too good to pass up.

Eg led him around the side of his house, past the butchered, rusted remnants of a red van, to a sloped, dusty area half sheltered under the curve of the top of the mountain. Within a five foot by five foot square, there were three neat rows of mounds containing seeds, some of which had already climbed their way through the dust as tiny, green sprouts. It was the first green thing Lawrence had seen since he’d crash-landed in Three Horns.

"It's not much," Eg said softly, kneeling down by one of the seedlings. It was small and wilting under the harsh sun. "There's so little food in this town. Skag meat only goes so far in the way of being nutritious."

"Larry - er, one of the others told me that skag is all there is to eat here."

Eg nodded, sending his golden tresses into his face. "And whatever the raiding parties manage to scrounge together," he said, tucking the strands back behind his ears. "Which is usually not much. Most of what they bring back are guns." Eg wrinkled his nose. "You can't eat those, despite what some of those...gentlemen think. I told Deputy Winger I would try to grow something for everyone as payment for letting me and the others stay here, but the soil is so dry and rocky. There's no nutrition in it for them, and a good wind storm will rip these poor things to shreds."

Lawrence hummed in agreement, impressed. "You know a lot about farming, I see."

"My mother was a botanist working for Hyperion," Eg said, a little hesitantly. "I learned a lot about plant life from her. I was going to try to be a botanist too once I got to college, but..." He shrugged sadly. "We were visiting her wife, my biological mother, at the preserve when our shuttle crashed. Mother died on impact. Then the bandits came..." A shudder wracked his sunburnt shoulders. "Sometimes, I wish I had died then, too."

Lawrence swallowed hard. "Deputy Winger told me what happened to you and the Sisters."

As he predicted, Eg reacted quite negatively and inched away from him. The poor kid's face twisted with a myriad of emotions, the foremost being disgust, which he no doubt felt towards himself rather than the bandits who defiled him.

"I was in a circumstance similar to yours, once."

Eg jerked and sent him that rabbit stare again. Lawrence saw the disbelief in his gaze, in the way his eyes darted up and down his frame.

"Not exactly the same," he elaborated gently. He yanked down his scarf and collar, exposing the scarred puncture marks. "See these? A while ago, I had a collar locked around my neck. It pumped me full of Eridium and forced me to do whatever Handsome Jack wanted."

"You were _Handsome Jack's_ slave?" Eg whispered, somehow managing to look even paler than he already was. "I'm - I'm so sorry. Sometimes I would eavesdrop on Mama telling Mother stories about the terrible things she had to do under Handsome Jack's orders at the preserve. He was truly an awful man."

Lawrence nodded stiffly. "What he did to me, even before he slapped that collar on..." He subconsciously touched the edge of his scar, frowning as words failed him for a moment. "It took me a long time to climb out of this pit of depression and self-loathing that he stuck me in. I only made it out because I had friends who cared about me enough to be there when I needed them."

For the first time in a while, he allowed himself to remember the good times he had in Sanctuary. There were the nights of drinking with the gang back at HQ, or at Maya's place when a smaller, more familiar crowd was desired. He remembered the many hours of in-depth discussion he had with Maya about Play of Chairs, the B&B games with Tina and the others, the hours spent in the workshop with Gaige just watching the mechromancer work her magic. Then, of course, there were those intimate nights with Axton - lying tangled up in the man's sheets while he slumbered beside him. Lawrence remembered his smile, his gravelly laugh, his stupid memes, and those kisses he used to give Lawrence on his cheeks that would turn him to absolute mush. So much of his time spent in that town had been a godsend, and he hadn't really taken the time to appreciate it.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "What I'm trying to say is, I know what it's like to be completely at someone's mercy. I know we just met, but I want you to know that you're not alone, and that if you need to talk about it - or anything, really - I'm willing to lend you an ear. Okay?"

Eg's blue eyes were swimming in unshed tears. For a second Lawrence was sure he would crack and tell him everything, but the moment was spoiled the second Lawrence felt the familiar cold press of a gun barrel against his scalp. He froze the same second Eg noticed they weren't alone.

"Get away from him," came a cold voice from over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	53. Chapter 53

"Shea!" Eg exclaimed, leaping to his feet. "Don't! It's fine!"

"Does Winger know you're up here?" the woman continued to snarl, ignoring Eg's pleas as she dug the barrel of her gun into Lawrence's skull. "Would you like to know what happened to the last asshole who decided to come pay us a visit after hours? You might have passed his rotten corpse dangling by his neck near the train station."

Eg rolled his eyes. "Stop being so dramatic," he snapped, moving to grab the woman's outstretched arm and yanking the gun away from Lawrence's head. The second the gun was clear, Lawrence slowly got up and turned to face the woman.

She was older than he was, but shared the same tired, wrinkled look that one only attained after a lifetime of suffering. Her long black hair was tied back into a ponytail, but a few loose strands still hung down in front of her narrowed gray eyes. She stared through them unblinkingly at Lawrence, and he stared right back, keeping his expression neutral.

"Lawrence, this is Shea," Eg said shakily, gesturing to the woman. "Shae - "

"We've met," she spat.

Eg sent her a confused look, as did Lawrence until he realized what she meant. "You were the woman I saw last night," he said, nodding. "Your kids have a wicked throwing arm - "

"You stay away from my children. Eg, my sisters, my mother - everyone I consider family," Shea snarled, taking a step into Lawrence's personal space. "Stay. Away. From them."

"I assure you I mean you guys no harm," Lawrence gritted out, feeling his lip curl back in a snarl. He could understand where Shea's rage was coming from, but it didn't mean he had to stand for it when it was unjustifiably turned on him. "I came up with Deputy Winger. He said I should talk to Eg - "

"Why?" she snarled, bringing the gun back up to point it up at his chin. "You have no business with him - or here, for that matter."

"Shea, please," Eg whispered, sounding ready to burst into tears. "Lawrence knows a lot about growing food! He said he could help me - "

"Because I know what he's going through," Lawrence snapped.

" _You_?" The woman had the gall to tilt her head back and let out a snorting laugh. "How could you possibly - "

"Shea, that's enough," barked another woman's voice from behind them. The trio turned to see Winger standing with an even older woman with graying hair and deep wrinkles on her brow at his side. She stood slightly hunched, but the pure authority radiating off of her made Lawrence's anger drop out of the bottom of his stomach.

Shea must have felt the same thing; she reluctantly lowered her gun. "Mother," she began quietly, "this man is trespassing."

"Is he now? Because to me it seems that he’s offered to lend Eg an ear," the woman said, tilting her head.

"Are you saying that I don't care - "

"Of course you care. We all do. What I'm saying, child, is that sometimes you care too much in all the wrong ways."

Shea recoiled, officially chastised, and turned away from the group, her angry face burning red. She stormed off in the opposite direction, and a moment later Lawrence heard gunfire.

"Please don't mind my eldest daughter's behavior," Shea’s mother said, turning her gray eyes to Lawrence. "She got her father's temper, unfortunately."

"It's fine," Lawrence murmured. He slowly held out his hand, intending to introduce himself, only to flinch at the sight of his own tainted flesh.

Imogen snagged his hand before he could recoil. "Deputy Winger's told me all about you and your journey for answers, Lawrence," she said kindly, giving his hand a squeeze. "I do hope you find them while you're here."

"That would certainly simplify things."

The woman chuckled. "My name is Imogen. Won't you come join us for some breakfast? All we have is skag meat, but we've found a few ways to spice it up."

The request took Lawrence by surprise. "If you're sure I won't, uh, disturb anyone, sure." If his gender didn't freak someone out, his glowing face and eyes probably would. But Imogen just smiled and beckoned him onward.

Winger left them at the front door to continue his rounds but promised a determined Imogen he'd return afterwards for some breakfast. "The poor man does so much for us," she lamented. "For everyone in town. He doesn't have time to take care of himself."

Lawrence frowned. Great, as if he didn’t feel guilty enough asking the man for help.

The building had at one point been a two-story factory for one thing or another, but now served as a much-needed home for the Sisters and their numerous children. As soon as they walked through the front door, Lawrence was greeted by the sound of an infant wailing and about a dozen other little ankle-biters darting around the huge room. Half of them froze when they caught sight of his lurking, luminous frame taking up half the doorway.

"Hi," he said weakly.

None of them responded beyond shrieking and running to hide behind one of the numerous women within the house.

"Mother?" a woman with a buzzed head intoned cautiously. She was sitting at a nearby table with an infant to her bare breast. A handful of squirts had taken shelter behind her wide frame.

Imogen just smiled. "Is breakfast ready yet, Grith? We have a guest joining us this morning."

Over breakfast, Lawrence was introduced to the remaining four Sisters. Clover was the second oldest of Imogen's daughters and shared her sister's dark hair and gray eyes. Thankfully she hadn't inherited her father’s anger and impatience like Shea had; she was a calm, level-headed woman who's suspicion of Lawrence waned almost instantly - not when Imogen assured her he was safe, but when Arvo and Farren entered the room and broke out into huge grins upon seeing the Lantern Man again.

"They're happy, usually," Clover told Lawrence, flashing him a tired smile. "But hardly ever like this. Thank you."

Clover had her own kids to look after, Lawrence learned - two young boys, Max and Lee, and a toddler, Cora, who was cute as a button and smiled bashfully up at Lawrence when he said hello - that she tended to on top of the other kids that belonged to her sisters. It seemed like quite the handful, but she assured him after noticing his wary look that she didn't want to do anything else.

"I always wanted to be a mother," she explained, shrugging. "Some people just know for certain what they want to do when they grow up. Sure, I didn't want it to come about under these particular circumstances, but what's done is done. Now I have my children _and_ my freedom."

Her younger sister, Penelope, was a mousy woman in her mid-twenties who was currently heavily pregnant with her third bastard child - one that everyone was hoping would live. The chances weren't high, Clover explained to Lawrence while her sister was distracted by one of the many children dancing around her feet. They had all lost children - to the bandit lifestyle, to nature, to stress - but at least they all had a few who made it out with them. Everyone except Penelope.

"It's been stressful for her," Clover explained sadly. "She's so worried she's going to lose this one, too. But it's the stress that made her lose the first two, so worrying like this isn't helping things."

Grith, the woman with the buzzed head, and Haema, a quiet, wary-looking woman who stayed as far away from Lawrence as possible, were twins - one of two sets that Imogen had successfully birthed a little less than twenty years ago. They looked nothing alike - Grith looked like she could tear Lawrence in half if she wanted to, whereas Lawrence was afraid to even look at Haema, lest he scare her away.

"She didn't want to come with us, when we left," Grith explained. "She fell in love with the man who fathered her two girls. I'm not sure if it was real love or just her trying to find something good in our situation." She shrugged one muscled shoulder. "We all found ways to cope."

Farren, it turns out, was the youngest of Imogen's daughters at sixteen and clearly the only one who had escaped being brutalized. It explained why her eyes, a deep, ocean blue, shined with a youthful innocence that the other Sisters lacked.

"Don't let the attitude fool you," Grith murmured to Lawrence as she continued to nurse her youngest. She'd had three children, but only the infant in her arms had made it to Lynchwood. "She's not stupid. She knows what would have happened to her if she hadn't come with us."

"We all do," Clover agreed. "Sometimes I think even the babes are aware of how dire the situation was when we made our escape. Not a peep from any of them!"

"You're all so amazing," Lawrence said - his first words in a long time. They were strained and rasping as they left him. "And brave." God, were they ever brave.

"You're pretty brave yourself," Clover said, throwing him a wry smile as she lifted one of Haema's squirming girls into her arms. "Mother said you used to be Handsome Jack's slave. Did he do that to you?" She nodded at the swirls on his face, the brightness of his eyes.

"Among other things," he mumbled. His pain seemed so pathetic compared to what these women had gone through. He vaguely remembered his mother giving birth to his youngest sister - the pain and screaming that had gone into bringing such a tiny, fleshy thing into the world. He couldn't imagine being forced to do that, over and over again.

Eventually he excused himself and stumbled around the side of the house to heave up breakfast. His entire body shook with raw emotions that he couldn't control. He felt more than overwhelmed by everything he'd just witnessed - and he had only just listened to them talk about their kids. He didn't even know of the true horrors of their lives, yet here he was, choking on his own breath as he struggled not to cry for them.

Soon after he'd stopped shuddering and spitting into the dirt, a shadow fell over him. When he glanced up, he saw Imogen stooped over him, that kind, motherly smile on her face despite the fact he probably looked like a mess.

"They're ours," she said quietly, reaching out to brush his hair off his sweaty brow. "We would never begrudge them for the wrongdoings of the men who fathered them."

Something burned in Lawrence's chest hard enough to make his eyes sting. "That's very good of you," he rasped, quickly dragging the back of his coat sleeve across his face just in case.

Imogen cast him a kind smile. "You're a nice young man," she said, giving him a motherly pat on the arm as he whimpered like a little boy. "Will you be staying here long?"

"I dunno. If Deputy Winger doesn't find anything to help me out, then I'll probably move on. I dunno where to, but I can't hang around. I'm dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"Hyperion's after me, I think." He shrugged helplessly. "They attacked Sanctuary - my, um, home, a month ago and I had to leave. I worry about sticking around too long in a certain area."

"Logical." Imogen turned to look up at the H-shaped space station, shielding her old eyes against the sunlight. "The mines might deter them from using that damned cannon of theirs, but it wouldn't stop them from deploying a ground unit in the desert to storm the town if they really wanted to."

Lawrence nodded. "That's what I was thinking. Which is why I can't stay for long." He looked past her to see Deputy Winger strolling towards them. "Hey, deputy."

"Lawrence. Ma'am," Winger said, tilting his hat at Imogen, who chuckled quietly. "All goin' well?"

"Wonderfully. You've come back for some breakfast?"

"I promised ya I would, ma'am."

Imogen smiled at the man and pulled him back to the house. Lawrence watched them go, content to remain outside in the shade of the building. His eyes roamed the jagged mountain walls, the sun-warmed buildings he could see near Main Street. He breathed deeply, tasting the grit on his teeth and the hot desert air in his lungs. He hoped that some part of this place would jog his memory again like that cage at the end of the railroad tracks had, but nothing came to him. Lynchwood was quickly proving to be a worthless endeavor.

Well, maybe not totally worthless, Lawrence thought, chastising himself. Making friends was never worthless, even if he had to say goodbye to them nine times out of ten.

A commotion kept him from dozing; it was coming from Gunslinger's Corner. He crawled over to the side of the cliff against his better judgement and hesitantly peered over it, quickly trying to scope out the issue before his vertigo got the best of him.

A group of loud, rambunctious bandits were making their way out of the tunnel and up the road towards Winger's office. Other bandits were on their way out of their homes to meet them, equally loud. At first Lawrence thought there was going to be a shootout or something, but then he caught sight of the huge crates the bandits were hauling - the results of a successful raid, he assumed.

"Can you go see if - "

"Fuckin’ fuck!" Lawrence shrieked, almost losing his balance despite not actually leaning over the side. He flattened himself onto the ground and sent a wild-eyed look over his shoulder.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" Eg wailed, curling in on himself from where he stood a few feet away. He looked like a scared little boy, not the almost-adult his age suggested. "I didn't mean to - please don't be mad - "

"I'm not, I'm not," Lawrence quickly assured him. He forced a toothy smile onto his face as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. "I'm terrified of heights is all. What were you asking me before I peed myself a little?" he asked, quickly changing the subject before Eg could start groveling again. "Can I see if - what?"

"I-if they brought in anything I can use in the garden," Eg answered quietly. Slowly his shoulders began to uncurl. "Deputy Winger gets first dibs on everything they bring in, but that doesn't stop some of them from taking what they want first."

Lawrence nodded and got to his feet. "Sure thing. Anything I should be looking for in particular?"

Eg shrugged. "Whatever you think will help the garden grow."

"You got it, kid." Lawrence started off for the elevator and met up with Deputy Winger as he was coming out of the house. A few youngins darted out behind him, eager to be out of the house even if it just meant dealing with being in the hot, sweaty air.

"Judgin' by the hootin' and hollerin', I'm assumin' the raiding party has returned successful," the deputy said as they walked.

Lawrence hummed and nodded in affirmation. "Eg asked me to see if there's anything he can use in the garden. What do you think the chances of that happening are?"

"Oh, very slim." Winger punched the elevator button to take them down a level. "If there was any food in those crates, the bastards probably gobbled it all up by now. They know there's nothin' I can do to prove it."

The bandits had made off with three sizable crates, two of which contained clothes, a few decent rifles and revolvers, and surprisingly little in the way of ammo, which had already pissed off most of the crowd that had gathered to see the spoils of the day. Winger let the men fight over the clothing, taking only the pieces that were either too small for the lot of them or just strips of fabric, which, Winger informed Lawrence, the women could use to make clothes for their kids. The guns were also nabbed by the bandits, which caused a brief shootout that ended in one dead bandit and another with her arm blown off.

Lawrence watched the whole thing with disinterest until the crowd parted enough to reveal the contents of the final crate: food, surprisingly untouched. MREs, canned and powdered rations, with a few other non-perishables. Plain, boring, and probably bad-tasting, but for men and women and children who hadn't consumed anything but skag for months, probably even years, it was a loot chest of the highest rarity.

Winger had his marshals remove most of the food goods to be divided up. "Y'all know the drill," he slurred as the last of it was carted off. "In an hour, come line up near my office and you'll get your share."

No one seemed ready to argue with him; they trusted him enough not to hoard the food for himself. Knowing Winger, he probably wouldn't save any of it for himself.

Content, Winger gestured to the crates, indicating that whatever was left was up for grabs. Lawrence peered over the side of the nearest crate, and, lo and behold, spotted a tiny, transparent baggie with strange looking pieces of something inside.

"Are those seeds?" he blurted, reaching into the bottom of the crate. The bag was barely in his grasp when someone else snatched it out of his hands,

A young man with a strip of dark, wild hair done up in a mohawk and a neck about as thick as Lawrence's thigh sneered back at him. "Dibs," he said in a raspy voice.

"I literally just had those in my hand before you ripped them out of it."

"You didn't call dibs."

Lawrence frowned. The man went to turn away, still snickering, but Lawrence wouldn't let him escape so easy. He lashed out and grabbed the man by his beefy arm, stilling him more from shock than from his own strength.

"Those seeds can be used to grow real food," Lawrence stressed through gritted teeth. "As in, you wouldn't have to go out on these stupid raids anymore."

"Where's the fun in that, then?" The guy snickered and yanked his arm out of Lawrence's grip.

"Hale, stop being a shitbird and give Lawrence the goddamned seeds," Winger snapped from across the street. "Christ, boy, if yer mama was here, she'd slap you one good."

The man, Hale, scowled at Winger, but the mentioning of his mother was enough to reconsider going against the deputy's order. He held the bag out to Lawrence, but snatched it out of his grasp one last time to pop a few seeds into his sneering maw before he tossed the bag back his way.

"Enjoy 'em, Glow Boy," he said, turning to leave.

Lawrence squinted in disapproval at the nickname, but didn't pursue it with a rebuttal. Instead, he turned and looked up at the cliff, knowing he'd see a pair of wide blue eyes staring back at him. He held up the baggie and gave Eg a thumbs up with his free hand. A brilliant smile graced the kid, one that Lawrence could see even from a hundred feet away.

A dull thump sounded to Lawrence's right, and he watched, mute, as a horrified look replaced the grin on Eg's face. Lawrence followed his wide-eyed gaze and frantic pointing, almost afraid of what he'd find.

Hale had collapsed into the dirt and now lay on his side, thrashing his legs and clawing at his throat. His eyes were wide open, unseeing, and filled with terror as a white foam bubbled through his clenched teeth and trickled down his square chin. He had gone deathly pale in a matter of seconds, the only color coming from his lips, which had gone from a light pink to a frightening shade of purple-black.

"Shit," Lawrence wheezed, darting over to the kid's side. He attempted to turn him onto his stomach, but he didn't know if he was choking or having a heart attack or what -

"Make him vomit!" came Eg's voice over the roaring in Lawrence's ears. "The seeds, Lawrence! He needs to puke them up!"

Lawrence was already yanking Hale into a sitting position and struggling to fit his fingers in his mouth to get to his throat, but the man's teeth were clenched and nothing Lawrence did seemed to undo his lockjaw, even when Winger charged over to help him.

Hale's eyes were just starting to roll into the back of his head when suddenly Eg was there, gently nudging both men aside.

Eg bit his lip as he observed the jerking man. "Sorry," he muttered, then performed a perfect elbow-drop right onto Hale's sternum.

Hale's eyes flew wide open as his entire body heaved, starting with a tremendous, ragged gasp from his now wide-open mouth. Eg was on him instantly and sliding his long fingers down the man's throat, only needing to flex them once before Hale was heaving again, this time vomiting up his breakfast along with the cursed seeds. Eg rubbed the man's shoulders through it, shushing him as he whimpered and groaned. Lawrence could only stand aside like a useless piece of garbage and watch the scene unfold.

Eventually Hale flopped onto his back and fell still. Eg stared at him for a long moment before turning to Lawrence and declaring, "He'll be okay."

Lawrence released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. "Good," he rasped, clearing his throat. "Jesus. What the hell happened? Are those poisonous or what? I thought they were just seeds!"

"Can I see the bag?"

Lawrence wordlessly handed it to him, noticing offhandedly that he was trembling. Eg pretended not to notice as he poured two of the round, blood-colored seeds into his palm and rubbed his thumb over them.

"Dagon bean seeds," Eg concluded quickly. "Every bit of the plant, even the roots, are extremely nutritious cooked or eaten raw. The seeds can kill a man in thirty seconds, though."

"So I've learned."

"So did Hale," Winger groused from behind them. For the first time, Lawrence noticed that they had an audience - people peering at them from a distance, from the windows of their houses.

"Escort Eg home," Winger ordered Lawrence as he moved to pick Hale up by his ankle. "I'm gonna drag this idjit to Doc Mack's to get his stomach pumped. Thanks for yer help," he added. "Half these ingrates would've let him drown in his own vomit. Hale's a dumbass, but he don't deserve to die like that."

Lawrence could only nod as he rose to his feet. Eg did the same, but he stuck close to Lawrence and became that timid little rabbit again the more he noticed the stares and questioning looks being thrown their way.

"Goddess," one of the bandits muttered as they moved past.

Lawrence quickened his pace, urging Eg to do the same.

"I'm sorry," he said as soon as they were on the elevator headed up.

"What for?"

"Making you come down there. Being around all those people."

Eg frowned at him. "I'm not afraid of people. I mean, I wasn't right then," he corrected himself. "I don't know. I was just concerned with saving that man's life. That was all that mattered."

"Well, you did. I sure as hell didn't know what to do." Lawrence gave him a friendly nudge. "You're a hero, kid."

Eg blushed at the compliment. "I just know a bit about plants," he said modestly. He looked at the little baggie in his hands, pleased. "If I can grow some of these, they'll feed the town for weeks. One dagon bean stalk can produce almost a thousand string beans." He huffed out a laugh. "I don't think anyone here has ever tasted a vegetable."

"Hell, they probably don't even know what the word means," Lawrence agreed, earning another laugh out of the boy.

Their laughter died immediately when the elevator came to a stop on the top floor, revealing a furious and armed Shea. A handful of kids, including Farren and Arvo, were clustered around the side of the building, watching the spectacle unfold with wide, nervous gazes. Eg cringed and actually took a step away from the woman, planting himself firmly behind Lawrence.

"Shea - "

"What the hell were you thinking?" she hissed.

"H-he was dying - "

"So?" the women practically shrieked. "Why would you ever - "

"I'm sick of watching people die on this stupid, horrible planet!" Eg shouted back, voice breaking for reasons other than puberty. "If I can help prevent it, why shouldn't I?"

"You would put yourself at risk for some stranger? Someone who would likely never return the favor? You're a goddamned fool!"

Eg sucked in a sob as he stared her dead in the eyes. "Fine, I guess I am. But I'd rather be a guiltless fool than one that turns a blind eye to someone in need." He shoved past her and made a bee-line for his house. The other kids scattered out of his way.

Lawrence watched him go, his frown growing deeper and more severe until he finally turned his attention to Shea. "Your mother's right. You care in all the wrong ways."

"Piss off," she snapped, starting for her own house.

"Look," Lawrence began, following her, "I get it. You're worried. You want to protect him. _I get it_. But hounding him like this every time something happens - it's not gonna win him over. You're pushing him away, Shea - "

She swung around without looking and clocked him with the butt of her revolver, splitting Lawrence's lip and sending a sharp arc of pain shooting through his teeth. By the time he recovered from the blow and straightened back up, the wound had healed, but the rage in his gut was still very much present.

"You don't get to speak my name," she hissed, not at all apologetic for the blow. "If I could have things my way, you wouldn't even be in my presence right now."

All of the stress of the day that had been twisting inside of him like a rubber band pulled taught threatened to finally snap. He had to physically remove himself from her presence so that he wouldn’t unleash that rage on her. He stormed off towards Eg's little shack where the kid was waiting for him, if his open door was any indication. With several deep, calming breaths, Lawrence rapped his knuckles on the door frame before coming in.

"Did she hit you hard?" Eg asked, distracted with the dagon beans.

"I'm fine," Lawrence replied, voice raspy. He cleared his throat, noting the house's plain interior save for a cot and table stacked with little plants, mostly those that thrive in the desert. The sight made him smile a little.

He looked at Eg and watched him carefully place a few of the seeds in an old damp newspaper, then arrange it on the shack's lone windowsill.

"Soaking them, huh?"

"Uh huh," Eg said. "It's an old trick Mother taught me to help speed up the growing process. When they start sprouting, we can try planting some. I think I want to try propagating the rest, see how it goes." He finally turned and offered him a small smile of gratitude. "Thanks for your help today."

"Of course." He shifted where he stood, nauseous. "I think I'm gonna head home," he muttered, taking a step towards the door. He needed to clear his head after such an eventful day. "See you around, Eg - "

"Actually, um," Eg blurted suddenly, "do you want to come back later tonight around nightfall?"

Lawrence arched a brow. "What's tonight?"

A small smile flicked across the boy's face. "It's been six months to the day that we escaped from that awful place," he said. "We're going to celebrate. Deputy Winger's been invited too, but I think he's got work."

Lawrence knew what work Winger was referring to; it made him feel super guilty, especially since out of everyone they could invite, Winger was definitely the VIP.

"You're not just inviting me to piss of Shea some more, are you?" he asked, squinting accusingly down at him. "'Cos she already clocked me once."

Eg shook his head, giggling. "No! You - you were nice to me. Everyone's nice, don't get me wrong, but you know what...I mean, you have an idea what..." Eg's good mood faded slightly, but it only lasted for a moment as he picked his head up and flashed him another small smile. "It can be your Freedom Day celebration too, if you want."

Lawrence blinked at the kid for a long ten seconds before he felt a grin tugging on his own lips. "I like the sound of that," he agreed. "I'll convince Winger to join us, too. See you at dusk?"

"See you at dusk, Lantern Man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	54. Chapter 54

Convincing Deputy Winger to come with him to the Freedom Day celebration the Sisters were throwing was either going to be surprisingly easy or annoyingly hard. After the long lines to grab some legitimate food had died down, Lawrence returned to the Sheriff's office that evening to nag him about it. He found the man hunched over his desk sans armor, as usual, with a half-eaten can of beans in one hand and an ECHO device in the other.

"Yo, Wing-Man!" Lawrence greeted loudly as he strolled in. "I heard you weren't coming to the party Imogen and the others are throwing. What gives?"

The tanned man squinted up at him, baffled by his brief lapse of sanity. "I was gonna try to start up that damn machine upstairs for ya once I was done here," he said finally, gesturing to the stacks of wanted posters and ECHO devices stacked on his desk.

"That can wait. So can all that other crap. You need to unwind, dude. It's been a long day."

"Well, I ain't gonna deny that. But findin' this information's important to ya and I've put it off long enough as is - "

"One more day won't kill me." Or anyone else, Lawrence hoped. "Just one night of shenanigans. Then tomorrow morning you can go back to being a grumpy old stick in the mud."

"Puh!" the deputy snorted, setting down his ECHO. "I'll have ya know that back in the day, I was a regular party animal. And I ain't that old! I wager yer older than I am!"

Lawrence went to taunt him, but words died in his throat when he realized he had no idea how old he was now. He'd been twenty-three when he had taken that job as Jack's body double, but after that, everything became a blur of violence and torture.

"Wh...what year is it?" he asked quietly.

Winger's expression squished up into one of regret as he told him. Lawrence quickly did the math and let out a groan.

"Oh, god, I'm almost thirty. I'm old as shit!" he wailed, gripping his graying hair. "My life is over! I'll be dead in a few years!"

"Wh - thirty ain't _old_ , ya prick!" Winger fired back as he began to don his coat. He left his hat and scarf hanging from his chair. "Just like forty-three ain't old! Old is - is anyone over fifty!"

Lawrence began to stumble backwards out onto the street, still groaning over-dramatically and pawing at his scalp. "I'll be _fifty_ soon. Oh, god, I need a drink. You're buying me a drink, Winger, you bastard."

"Hey, I didn't start this crisis o' yers. You brought this on yerself when you called me old. Which I ain't."

"You're a little old."

"Boy, I will beat ya 'til ya stop glowin'."

By the time they'd reached the end of the elevator ride up, both men were in a cheerful mood, which only intensified when they came out into the open and saw what the Sisters had done to spruce up the area for their Freedom Day party. There was a huge bonfire near the support beam for the water pipe where a rather large skag was roasting; normally whenever someone cooked skag, the smell of burning rubber permeated from the area, but whatever the ladies had done to it made it smell nearly edible. The laughter of children filled the area over the gentle thrumming coming from a radio that they had been able to fix up just for the occasion.

"Lantern Man!" one of the kids exclaimed as they darted by their feet.

Lawrence rolled his eyes and grinned. "It is I!" he boomed, scattering the little urchins with a chorus of screeches and giggles.

"You made it!" Farren exclaimed, hurrying over to snag both of them by their hands. She was clad in a white toga that looked more like a bed sheet than an actual garment, but she looked pretty in it nonetheless. "Mom'll be so happy! C'mon, we've got a whole skag roasting and that barrel of rakk ale Mr. Winger stole from the saloon!"

Lawrence sent Winger a wide-eyed, somewhat impressed look. "You stole a whole barrel of rakk ale?"

"What? No!" Winger said through a grin and an extremely forced, nervous laugh. "I just used my authority as deputy to wrangle one from the generous owner of the saloon."

"You stole it."

Winger gave him a shove with his free arm. "Smartass."

Imogen was sitting in the sand a ways away from the bonfire by said barrel of rakk ale. She smiled up at them as Farren yanked them over. "Glad to see you could make it," she said to both of them, holding out two iron cups of the potent liquid. "Relax, enjoy. Tonight we celebrate freedom. Farren, get them some of the skag, will you?"

As the teenager hurried to grab them some grub, Lawrence took his cup of ale and took a generous swig. He wanted to be proud of the fact that he managed not to choke on the ale as it went down, but he figured he probably had the Eridium in his blood to thank for that.

"Thanks for the invite, Imogen," he said, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Thank Eg. He was adamant that you come," she told him, nodding towards the young man. Lawrence followed her eyes and saw Eg dancing around the fire with Cora, Shea's little three year old girl. He was dressed in white, same as the Sisters, with his hair done up in a messy bun. He happened to glance up just in time to catch him looking and flashed Lawrence a dazzling grin.

"It's good to have some men around who aren't a threat," Imogen continued. "My daughters grew up afraid and bitter. Their children hopefully won't have to."

Lawrence nodded, not sure what to say. He was definitely better than a lot of the men on this planet, sure, but he had his fair share of ghosts constantly looming over him. But he didn't want to think about that now. One of his ghosts was gone, and tonight was meant to celebrate that.

"I suppose I should thank you for getting Deputy Winger to join us," Imogen said, elbowing the deputy in the ribs as he sat down in the sand next to her. "Lord knows he only ever pays this old lady a visit when he's on patrol."

"Woman, I am busy keepin' this town safe-ish," the man grumbled, rubbing his ribs and frowning down at his lap where he'd spilled some of his ale. "If ya want me to stay for breakfast or whatever, all ya gotta do is ask, like you did this mornin'."

The two continued to bicker like an old married couple, even after Farren delivered some fried skag meat. Lawrence was ten seconds away from attempting to take a bite of it when someone tackled him hard from the side, sending him sprawling into the sand with an "oof!" of pain. His first thought was that Shea had finally snapped and was going to beat the shit out of him, but when he picked his head up out of the dust he was surprised to see Otto sitting on his back.

"Got you, Lantern Man!" Otto declared, lifting his fists in victory. "Surrender or die!"

"Oh, no, Lantern Man down!" Lawrence groaned, weakly thrashing his legs in a less-than-desperate attempt to throw the kid off. "Where's my sidekick? Arvo! Lantern Man needs your help!"

The kid hurried over, squealing happily, and outright tackled Otto off of him. A brief scuffle broke out as more of the boys came over to roughhouse. Lawrence managed to wiggle away without too much damage and collapsed into the sand, laughing.

When he opened his eyes, the kids had ceased fighting and now stood clustered around him. "Even Lantern Man needs to take a break, kiddos..."

"Can you do magic?" Max, Clover's boy, asked, peering down at him with wide brown eyes.

"Magic?"

"Yeah, like, um," Max fumbled for words, "making stuff disappear! Like a wizard! Can you do that?"

Lawrence hummed as he sat up. "Well, I can make stuff _appear_ ," he said as he subtly began to reach for his watch. "Would you guys like to see me do that?"

The chorus of half-shouted yeses was enough incentive for him to throw caution to the wind and summon his doubles with a bellowing cry of, "Alakazam!"

The kids shrieked with glee at the sight of Red and Blue standing on either side of Lawrence, both of them stiff and confused. The Sisters were instantly on guard, though none of them moved aside from turning their wide, focused gazes on him and his doubles. For a moment Lawrence wasn't sure whether or not this had been a good idea, but when the doubles made no move to attack, the Sisters slowly relaxed. Blue recoiled in surprise at the sight of so many children, only to melt into a grin.

"Short things need saying hello!" he said, waving at the bunch.

Lee gasped and whirled on one of his cousins - Bexley, one of Haema's daughters. "He sounds like you, Bex!"

The dark-haired girl blushed and covered her face with her hands, squeaking. Lawrence had only heard Bexley speak once before to her mother; her words had been stilted, mixed up, and hard for her to get out, despite the simplicity. A lot of the kids had been born with defects, but it didn't take away from how goddamned cute they all were.

The children all but swarmed Blue, amazed at how their hands passed through his knees, while Red frowned down at them before turning to arch a slightly disapproving brow at his boss.

"Sir," he began, "I thought we came to Lynchwood to find answers about - "

"Just play along," Lawrence said to him through the gritted teeth of his grin. "It's Freedom Day and the kids wanna see some magic. So have at it."

Red was baffled by what his boss meant. It was actually Blue who figured it out first and sent a bolt of lightning high into the air above the children; it crackled and flickered harmlessly before it dissolved. The children lost their little minds and started chanting "Again, again!" until Blue gave it and began chucking blast after blast skyward, satisfying their thirst for a magic show.

Red frowned at his double, then at his boss, before he started charging up his own power, focusing a ball of flame in his palm. The children froze, eyes on the flickering flame, and watched in silence as Red slowly lifted his palm skyward. With a loud crack-boom, Red shot the ball high into the air where it exploded into several smaller flaming orbs. With no enemies in sight, the orbs circled in the sky like lazy rakks before they too vanished.

"More, more!" the ecstatic children chanted, and Red reluctantly obliged.

A few minutes into the light show, Eg approached Lawrence with a half-asleep Cora balanced on one hip. "Are those...Handsome Jack holograms?" he asked cautiously, eyes on the performing doubles.

"Basically," Lawrence replied, offering the kid a smile. "While I was working for him, they were just digital copies of me that could wreck stuff. After I got out, a friend of mine in Sanctuary gave them personalities. They're more like AI now."

"They're amazing," Eg breathed just as Red turned around to face him. He wilted a little under Red's intense, unblinking gaze, but still offered up a timid little, "H-hello."

The badass stared at him for a long moment, then turned to Lawrence. "Request to dematerialize, sir."

"What? Why?"

Red's eyes flicked back towards Eg. "Because."

Lawrence squinted at his double, until suddenly it hit him. He couldn't keep the obnoxious "Ha!" from exploding from his mouth. "Aww, baby's got his first crush," he cooed as Eg covered his own mouth to hide his surprised smile. "I thought Gaige gave you the brains and Blue the emotions."

"Evidently, she missed a bit of code," Red snapped before he vanished with a flash of pixels. Blue was forced to do the same, much to the children's disappointment. It was probably for the best; Lawrence didn't want their energy being completely drained.

"I hope you didn't offend him," Eg said after a moment, sniffing. "He seemed like a nice man. Hologram. Whatever."

"You're just saying that 'cos he thinks you're cute."

"Well, he's not wrong." Eg gave a sassy toss of his hair and went to hand Cora to her mother.

Giggling, Lawrence returned to Imogen and Winger, who had finished up their skag dinner and were now talking quietly about the state of the town. There was a thin brown stick between Imogen's fingers; it was smoking and smelled faintly of spice, like cinnamon.

"Ajate?" She held the stick out to him.

When Lawrence brought it to his mouth for a small puff, the shock of good feelings and sensations that slammed into him were very, very welcome, and a bit of a surprise, considering how the Eridium in his blood had made it almost impossible to get drunk these days. He'd have to keep this in mind, he thought, taking another deeper whiff before passing it back.

Someone cranked the radio louder, filling the area with the sounds of a wordless thrumming that Lawrence's heartbeat fell into rhythm with. The ajate made him red-eyed and loose-bodied, which probably explained why when Shea's twin girls came over and demanded he dance with them he obeyed without question. He stumbled around in the sand with them like an oaf until Clover began to herd up all the youngsters for bed, leaving him lying on his back staring up at the stars.

At some point a woman began to vocalize with the sweeping tune coming from the radio; that was when Lawrence learned that, despite Haema being silent ninety percent of the time, she could sure sing. He lay in the warm sand with his eyes shut, just absorbing the woman's voice as it swept over the area and out into the desert, no doubt echoing for miles around them. The locals down below were probably babbling incessantly about their goddesses now, assuming any of them were awake at this hour.

"Enjoying the ajate?" came Eg's voice once Haema's unfortunately died down.

"Among other things." Lawrence opened his eyes and smiled up at the kid from where he stood bent over him. In the flickering light from the fire, Lawrence could see that his eyes were a little red as well.

"Come with me," the boy murmured.

Lawrence enjoyed the rush to his head he got when he stood up. Eg took his hand in his as he led him away from the fire, from the women and their children, towards his little house by the red van chassis. Lawrence was too busy enjoying the feel of the cold sand between his toes or the nice breeze ruffling his hair to notice much of anything else - until he felt hands on his belt, then warm lips around his flaccid cock.

Suddenly he was wide awake.

"Whoa!" he yelped, trying to jerk backwards, only to slam his skull into the side of Eg's house. "Ow! Wh-what the hell are you doing, Eg?"

The boy was on his knees in front of him, hands still partially outstretched from where he'd had them hooked into the band of Lawrence's pants. "Having sex with you," he said, eyes wide and steadily filling with confusion. "Don't you want to?"

" _No!_ Jesus - " Lawrence tucked himself back in and did up his pants with trembling hands. "I could be your father, for fuck's sake!"

Eg's surprised expression began to crumble into something between anger and sadness. "But you're not. Is it...because of...what happened? Because I’m broken?"

Lawrence stared at him in disbelief. "How could you even think that?" he rasped, slowly kneeling down so that he and Eg were on the same level. "Eg, you're a bright young kid and I'll gladly call you my friend. But we can't do this."

"Why?" It came out as a sob.

"For one thing, we're both under the influence. Tomorrow morning you might regret this."

He shook his head angrily. "I wouldn't. You're one of the very few men I can honestly say I'm not afraid of."

"There'll be others."

"I know that," Eg snapped. "I'm not a child. I'm not stupid. I just thought..." He shook his head, dislodging his hair from behind his ears. “It’s going to be so hard trying to move on from what happened. I’m sorry, I thought maybe if I tried with you, it wouldn’t be as hard...”

“It’s going to difficult,” Lawrence agreed, frowning sadly as he reached over to tuck some of his hair back. “I’m not gonna lie. It’s going to take a while, and only you have the power to push yourself forward. But I have faith in you. So do the Sisters. Just...please don’t give up.”

Eg nodded and wiped his eyes with his hands. “Not planning on it,” he said, cracking a small, sincere smile. “Come on, let’s get back to the party before Shea makes some bad assumptions.”

Having come to an understanding, both boys made their way back to the fire, which was beginning to dwindle from bonfire-sized to a simple campfire. Most of the kids had returned to the house to sleep, as had Clover, Penelope, and Haema. Farren, Otto and Arvo were passed out in the sand next to Grith, who was slowly rocking her own slumbering babe back and forth. Winger and Imogen were still sitting closely together by the fire, heads bowed low as they shared another ajate stick. Only Shea sent Lawrence and Eg a caustic, threatening look upon their return, but Eg stuck his tongue out at her, stomping any arguments flat before they could start.

"I don't want tonight to end," Eg said through a sigh as he stared skywards.

"It doesn't have to just yet. Wanna dance?" Lawrence offered.

Eg cast him a crooked grin. "If your dancing is anything like what I saw you doing with Eden and Willow earlier, I think I'll pass."

Lawrence feigned offense. "I'll have you know I'm a great dancer - sober! I'll prove it!" He jumped to his feet, stumbled as his brain protested to the sudden movement, then fiddled with the radio until he found a bouncing, upbeat tune that didn't make him want to tear his hair out. "This good?" he asked, turning back to Eg. The kid was already on his feet.

When he danced, Eg was as fluid as the water flowing through the pipes overhead. He twisted and turned and twirled perfectly with the beat of the wordless tune thumping through the radio's speakers. Lawrence did his best to follow, but he was a spiderant in a china shop compared to Eg. They spun around each other, around the fire, kicked up puffs of sand with their bare feet, and laughed as they let the music overwhelm them.

Lawrence would later blame the ajate for what happened next. Had he been sober, more aware, he might have been able to stop Eg from spinning right into Hale's broad chest.

Eg bounced off of the wider man with a gasp; he probably would have lost his balance and fallen had Hale not lashed out and grabbed him by one of his thin wrists, drawing him back into his space.

"Hey," he gritted out in his naturally rough voice. His grip on Eg's wrist didn't lessen even as the smaller male stood visibly shrinking in on himself from fright. "I wanna tell you something."

"L-let go," Eg gasped in a whisper. He jerked his wrist once, but Hale's grip was frighteningly tight. "Please, please let go! _Let go_!"

"Relax, I just wanna say something," Hale insisted, bringing his other huge hand up to grip Eg's shoulder.

Eg went completely rigid.

So much shit happened in the ensuing seconds that Lawrence didn't even remember moving. He blinked, and suddenly he had Hale pinned to the ground in a headlock halfway across the area, far away from where Eg was curled up in the sand. Terrible noises were coming from the boy, noises that had roused the Sisters and brought Shea storming to his defense.

"Why did you come up here?" Lawrence snarled to the limp kid in his arms.

"I-I thought it would be okay 'cos Winger's here - "

"Get out! Get out!" Shea was yelling. She looked thirty seconds away from snatching her gun out of its holster underneath her dress and popping a bullet right between Hale's eyes, but a very livid Deputy Winger was one step ahead of her, already storming forward with his shotgun drawn.

"Hold 'im nice and still, Lawrence," he snarled, lifting the gun up to point right at Hale's head. "I'd apologize in advance for the brain matter yer gonna get splattered all over ya, but I don't think this fool has any in his goddamned head."

"No! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Hale gasped as Lawrence increased his grip around his neck. "I didn't mean to scare anyone, I just wanted to tell him thanks for saving my life, I swear, that's why I came up here, please...!"

Winger cocked his shotgun and went to fire, but Eg's hoarse cry made him freeze: "Don't kill him!"

"He hurt you!" Shea snarled. Eg was propped up against her now, his head lolling and his eyes wide with utter terror. She held his arm in her hand, the one Hale had gripped, and sure enough there was already a bruise blooming around his thin, pale wrist.

"I swear I just wanted to say thank you," Hale was still whimpering, wide eyes on Eg now. "I didn't mean to scare you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry."

Eg shuddered, but his nod was unmistakable. "No more death," he rasped, shutting his eyes. "Please."

"Fine," Winger hissed, lowering his gun, "but I'm draggin' his ass to lockup 'til mornin'. We're gonna have a little chat, Hale."

Hale swallowed hard but didn't resist when Lawrence hoisted him to his feet. Lawrence uncoiled his arm from around his beefy neck and grabbed the kid's limp arms to twist behind his back. He turned to Winger and took a step back so that he could take over holding Hale's wrists, but the deputy merely arched a brow at him, then brought the butt of his shotgun down on Hale's skull, instantly sending him crumpling into the dust.

"Or, you could do that," Lawrence said, frowning down at the kid's body. "Jesus, Winger."

The deputy said nothing as he slung his shotgun over one shoulder and bent over to grab Hale around the ankle with his free hand. He started off, muttering shit under his breath. "Gettin' real sick of draggin' yer heavy ass around, shitbird."

Lawrence watched them go before he turned back to Eg. The boy was staring right through him, pale and tight-lipped as shock completely seized him. Shea was on his right and Imogen was kneeling at his left; they were both hushing him and rubbing his shaking hands.

Lawrence gingerly took a few slow steps towards them, but froze when Eg let out a loud whimper and tried unsuccessfully to backpedal away from him.

It broke Lawrence's heart. "Eg," he whispered, nearly falling to his knees.

"Go," Shea told him. When he met her eyes, he found none of the angry bitterness that she usually threw at him - just a calm, even gaze with a slight undercurrent of sadness that he may or may not have imagined was there.

He obeyed. 


	55. Chapter 55

The next morning took forever to get there, and not just because of how ludicrously long one solar cycle was on Pandora. Lawrence plunked himself down on the chair on his front porch just as the sun was beginning to rise and did his best to meditate for a few minutes, but his mind was still in shambles over what had happened the night before.

A part of him wanted to break into the jail and throttle Hale - assuming Winger hadn't already done that. The sensible part of him knew that wouldn't help things.

At some point people started coming out of their homes to go about their business, and Larry was one of them. He strolled past Lawrence's house and lifted an arm to wave.

"Howdy, neighbor! You - wow, you look awful. Bad night?"

"Understatement."

"That's a shame. Wanna go for a walk? I gotta get some more bandages from the general store and wouldn't mind the company."

Lawrence couldn't bring himself to say no. Larry's random babbling did wonders to keep his mind off of things, especially when Lawrence concentrated really hard on the ramblings and was able to reciprocate with a few clipped words of his own.

They met up with Winger halfway there; the sheriff was on his morning patrol and looked tired beyond words, but still welcomed their company. Larry eventually parted ways with them at the train station to get his bandages.

"Nice guy," the deputy slurred through a yawn. "I usually can't stand mornin' people, but now I'm thinkin' I should make 'im a marshal and have him do my morning patrol for me."

"You all right?"

"I'm beat to hell and back and I think I'm hung over. Damn ajate." Winger shook himself, making his gear rattle and clink. "I'll be all right, though. It's Eg I'm worried about. He'd been doing so well, interractin' with ya. Do y'know how long it took him to warm up to me? A week and a half. That long - just to get a smile outta him! Then ya swoop in and win him over in a day's time."

Lawrence just shrugged a stiff shoulder. "Having something in common helps."

He wasn't referring to gardening and the deputy knew it, if his awkward shuffle was any indication. "Well, I hope he perks up again," he said through a small sigh. "I'm keepin' Hale locked up for today, just to keep Eg at ease."

"Did you explain to Hale why Eg reacted to him like that?"

"Yeah. If ya think he was scared with a shotgun pointed at his face, ya should've seen him after I was done explainin' to him what the Sisters and Eg have been through. Think I traumatized him a lil', but that's okay. It'll teach him to think first."

As Winger spoke, Lawrence looked over his shoulder, away from town towards the small canyon to the right of the train station. Larry hadn't brought him over there during his tour, which prompted him to ask, "What's over that way?"

"Rats, mostly. Some skags too. I'd keep away from there," Winger said. "If they don't get'cha, the mining machinery will. We turned a lotta that crap off so we could reroute the power to the town, but some of it's still active."

"Uh huh." Lawrence was drifting away from the town, as if pulled by a force he couldn't comprehend. Something was calling for him.

"Boy, you got a hearing problem?" Winger snapped, following after him.

"I just need to see something."

The narrow canyon quickly opened up slightly into a clearing with an elevator shaft leading up and out of it. Lawrence lifted his eyes to where a rather large digger was hanging into the canyon just a few feet from the elevator. It was turned off, but its sharp edges still loomed over them as a potential threat.

That wasn't the only thing to worry about, Lawrence realized as the ground gave a rumble that he felt in his chest. As he turned to send Winger a worried, confused look, he caught sight of what was probably - no, _definitely_ the biggest skag he had ever seen in his life wiggling its way out of another elevator shaft that was situated within a dug out portion of the valley wall.

"Holy shit," Lawrence hissed, fumbling for his gun. "That is one big skag - "

"Oh, wait! Don't shoot!" Winger exclaimed suddenly, lashing out to nudge the barrel of Lawrence's revolver downward. "That's Dukino. He's fine."

"Dukino?" Lawrence repeated slowly. Something tickled the back of his brain. Why did that name sound so familiar?

"Yeah, someone brought him in a couple years ago when he was just a pup," Winger elaborated. "O'course none of the idjits knew how to raise the poor thing, so they chained him up to that crate I found ya in front of and left him there to rot. Idjits. If the Sheriff hadn't been runnin' me ragged, I would've tried to raise him - or at least set him free."

As they talked, the gigantic creature lifted his head to sniff at them. Lawrence watched, torn between focusing on the flickers of broken memories bouncing around in his noggin and the words coming from Winger, as Dukino slowly stood up, stretched, and then charged at them. His huge feet thundered as they hit the ground and sent up clouds of dust and debris.

Lawrence let out a screech and went to lift his revolver again, but the creature went down of his own accord before he could fire a shot. Lawrence had to hop back a few steps to keep from being crushed by Dukino as he rolled onto his back and skidded to a stop a few inches from him, feet in the air as he demanded, of all things, belly rubs.

"The hell?" Lawrence wheezed, placing one hand over his chest in an attempt to keep his heart from beating out of it.

Winger seemed entirely unbothered by the almost-attack, as if the damn thing did it every time it saw a friend. "Well? Rub his belly," he instructed, grinning. "Dukino don't get up for much outside of food. This is a rare occurrence."

With shaking hands, Lawrence tucked his revolver away and gently touched the side of the beast, earning a content grumble and a thrashing of legs as a sign to continue. Encouraged, he increased the pressure and rubbed until his whole body was leaning against Dukino's heaving, leathery side.

"Wow," Lawrence choked out, grinning as his fear ebbed away into delight. "This - this is amazing. Who's a good boy? Is it you, Dukino?"

The creature let out a roar of excitement and wiggled so hard he almost dislodged Lawrence from his chest. Lawrence laughed and hung on until Dukino settled again, going almost lax as Lawrence began to scrape his nails against the creature's ribs.

"Huh," Winger said, eyebrows high on his head as he observed the two of them. "Either ya got a way with animals, boy, or...no, no, I remember now. Ya used to hang out with him."

"I did?" Lawrence asked, cocking a brow.

Dukino gave a happy roar as he flipped over onto his feet, satisfied with his belly rub. Despite the fact that he towered over both men, he still managed to lean down enough to nudge Lawrence with his humongous, could-easily-swallow-a-man-whole-sized maw, cooing as Lawrence went to continue petting him and scratching him beneath his non-existent chin. The action was almost automatic for Lawrence, and a split second later he knew why.

There was a flash before his eyes, like he'd looked at the sun for too long, and when he went to blink the sunspots away, he found himself staring down at glove-less, Eridium-tainted hands where they sat on his folded legs. He couldn't move his head to see where he was, couldn't even blink, but he could feel something nudging at his elbow, dislodging his hand from its limp position on his thigh. Eventually said something wiggled its way into his lap: a tiny red skag - Dukino - clad in a collar too small, same as Lawrence, who could do nothing to comfort the the pup as it whimpered and clawed at him. His presence was enough, it seemed, and the skag eventually slipped off to sleep, burrowed safely into Lawrence's legs.

"Lawrence? Boy, wake up!"

Lawrence came crashing back to the present with a heaving gasp and a torrent of tears. He found himself on his ass in front of a whimpering Dukino and a very concerned deputy, who had laid a gentle hand on his shoulder in an attempt to bring him back to reality.

"Holy shit," Lawrence choked, hastily wiping his tears away with shaking hands. "Holy shit."

"Ya all right?" Winger asked, almost frantic. "Ya just - just collapsed. Yer awful pale - d'ya need some water? Dammit, I told Imogen not to offer ya any of that ajate!"

"I'm okay," Lawrence assured him, accepting the man's offered hand up. "I just...remembered."

"Remembered?"

"Dukino. I remember spending time with him while I was here. When he was just a little thing and I was...not right."

Winger blinked rapidly in surprise. "Well, shoot, son. Guess ya were right 'bout comin' here, then."

"Guess so." Lawrence looked up at Dukino, who had finally ceased whining and stomping his giant feet in distress. He reached up to soothe him. "It's okay, buddy. I'm okay. I'm glad you remember me."

Dukino nudged him with his maw, almost knocking him off his feet, before he plopped back down into a giant puddle of skag, asleep in mere seconds. Lawrence patted him on the back and let his forehead rest against the creature for a moment as he struggled to tame his wild heartbeat. The memory, while disjointed and still a little blurry, was fresh in his mind and in the process of burrowing deeply into his nerves. He wondered what else he might remember while he was here. This memory had been tame, all things considered. He knew that it was probably only one of a handful that wouldn't make him anxious and afraid.

"Maybe ya should take it easy today," Winger suggested quietly.

Lawrence shook his head. "If this is starting, I don't want it to stop. I have to know, Winger. It's the whole reason I'm here."

The deputy reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "I'll get to work on that machine when I get back to the office," he said. "How's 'bout ya come on back with me? It's a good place to start if bein' 'round stuff that ya used to be 'round all the time while under the influence of that collar is helpin' ya remember. The Sheriff kept ya near the cells whenever she didn't want ya 'round, which was pretty often."

He made a very good point. Lawrence agreed and, with a farewell pat to Dukino, turned to head back the way they came.

~

"The hell’s this?"

Lawrence peered over Winger's shoulder, eager to see what had caused the man to shout. There was a hallway off to the right of the main office space that led to the town's jail. Of the three cells, one was currently in use by Hale. The boy was conscious and standing at the gate, his huge hands clasping the bars. And Eg, wrapped in a cloak with a hood, stood in front of him.

Hale held his empty hands up. "You can't possibly blame me for this," he said.

Winger ripped off his hat and scarf, exposing his expression of disbelief. "Eg, what the _hell_ \- "

"He said he wanted to thank me," Eg said quickly, wilting slightly under the deputy's stare. "I didn't give him the chance to last night. Plus I owe him an apology for...for what happened." His eyes flicked to Lawrence. “You, too.”

Before Lawrence could tell him not to worry about it, Winger cut in with a furious, "Bullshit ya do! He knows he ain't allowed near y'all without special permission!"

"But he didn't know why."

Lawrence laid a hand on Winger's shoulder. "Dude, he's behind bars. If they were ever gonna talk, now's the perfect time, don't you think?"

Winger huffed and regarded the two kids once more. "Ten minutes," he ground out, turning to give them their privacy. "Holler if that punk tries anythin'."

Eg flashed him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Winger stalked back into his office, grumbling about shitbirds and punks, and Lawrence lowered himself into one of the rickety chairs that lined the front wall of the office, mostly so he could keep an ear out if Eg needed help. He doubted he would. Hale was huge and muscular and a little frightening to behold - as were a lot of the beefier dudes that prowled the area - but he looked at Eg like he was something strange yet beautiful. Something he didn't quite understand but wanted to.

Axton had looked at him like that once, early on when they were just getting close. A little more expressive and vocal about his desire, sure, but the kind eyes and gentle half-smile were of the same.

"Are you all right?" came Eg's slightly panicked voice through the doorway, slicing through Lawrence's thoughts. If he leaned back in his chair, he could make out the kid's lean frame gripping the bars to Hale's cell.

"Fine," came the weak response. It sounded like Hale had moved farther back into his cell, probably to lie down on the cot set up in there.

"You're still sick from the seeds," Eg realized softly. "Why did you try to come up last night if you weren't feeling well? Couldn't you have waited?"

"I just wanted to say thanks." A pause. "I saw you when I was dying. I just...didn't think you were real."

"Why?"

"I dunno, I was dying. You looked like an angel or something.

"No angel. Just a guy with a decent amount of knowledge of plant life."

"Well, thanks, Plant Guy."

Eg chuckled softly. "My friends call me Eg."

"Egg? Like, the food?"

Another quiet laugh. "Eg as in Egbert."

"That's a weird name." Another short pause. "I like it."

The soft conversation continued for a few more minutes. Lawrence let his mind wander away from the kids, content that Hale wouldn't try anything. He thought about the jail cells and what Winger had told him about how Nisha would throw him in there whenever she didn't know what to do with him. He had probably spent most of his time in one of those cells, wasting away.

He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. He could hear the wind whistling outside, could smell the sand and grit in the air. None of it spoke to him or drew that same flashback sensation Dukino and his cage had given him earlier. Maybe he was limited to one a day.

"Sure," Lawrence drawled under his breath, opening his eyes. _That_ made perfect sense.

Eventually Winger came around from his back office room and peered into the jail row. "Wrap it up, kids, visitin’ hours are over."

Eg said goodbye to Hale and peeled himself away from the bars. "He needs bed rest," he told Winger as he re-entered the office. "Preferably in his own bed. Enough of the seeds' toxins got absorbed into his body to cause him some issues."

Winger grunted with displeasure. "I'll release him once ya make it back up to the Sisters."

"He won't hurt me."

"How can ya be so sure?"

Eg looked at him from underneath his eyelashes. "Because I've been around men that would. I know the signs, sir. Hale isn't like that."

Winger didn't look convinced, but changed the subject anyway. "Does anyone know yer down here?" he asked.

"Imogen. Shea's probably going to be mad at me, but," Eg shrugged, "this was something I had to do on my own. I can't be afraid forever. I don't want to be."

Winger couldn't very well tell him he was wrong, but he pouted and looked uneasy nonetheless.

Eg sighed and laid a slender hand on the deputy's wrist. "I appreciate that you're concerned, sir. Having _anyone_ care about us...it means a lot." Eg's voice broke, but he refused to let any tears fall.

Before Winger and Eg could tumble headfirst into a heart-to-heart, there came a clattering from the door as Larry stumbled over the threshold, out of breath and frantic behind the mask and goggles. "Deputy! There's a storm coming and she looks mad!" he exclaimed.

"Shit," Winger hissed, grabbing his hat. "Lawrence, get Eg back home, then get yerself to some shelter, y'hear me? Larry, spread the word! No one leaves their houses 'til it's passed! Tell Fillion to open up his doors for people 'til further notice!"

Larry saluted and sped off with a mumbled, "Yessir!"

Baffled and half panicked himself, Lawrence followed Eg outside and sucked in a surprised breath at the wave of wind that consumed him. He yanked his hood up and buried his face in his scarf, trying not to breathe in any of the dust that was being kicked up. He risked a glance out at the desert behind the Sheriff's office and was nearly knocked off his feet by the blast of wind. He still managed to squint past the wave and see what looked like a wall of golden sand moving swiftly in the distance, one that was heading right for them.

Eg grabbed him by his sleeve and urged him to move with him towards the elevator. Lawrence didn't need to be told twice.

"What's going on?" he yelled over the roar. "Hurricane?"

"Sandstorm," Eg explained. The kid had donned his own hood and was using the edge of his makeshift cloak to cover his nose and mouth. "They happen here every now and then. The first one I experienced happened not too long ago, right after we had settled in. Ripped the first batch of sprouts in the garden right up - " He cut himself off with a horrified gasp. "Oh, no! The garden!"

Eg took off in a sprint for the elevator, and Lawrence bolted after him with a muffled curse. By the time the old thing rattled its way to the top level of town, the wind had gotten so bad it was almost impossible to see past all the dust and debris flying through the air. The tarp tied to the water pipes was making awful whip-cracking noises as the wind threatened to tear it from its perch. The actual pipes were groaning rather loudly as well - something that Lawrence did not fail to notice.

"Is this place safe?" he barked to Eg, who was already making his way across the open area towards his little shack and garden. Lawrence stumbled after him. "Eg! We gotta get inside!"

Lawrence seized a frantic Eg by the back of his cloak, trying to drag him into his house, but the kid jerked away from him to get to his poor little garden. Much of it had already been ravaged by the wind and now lay half smothered by dust. Eg fell to his knees alongside it, trying to shield it with his body, but that wouldn't work.

"I don't know what to do!" he wailed. "Should I cover them? The winds get so fierce - I don't know if a tarp will hold! I-I don't know what to do, Lawrence!"

He didn't know either, to be frank.

The pipes above them groaned again. A part of the support beams started to rattle fiercely as a large chunk of it came loose and swung wildly in the wind. It didn't take long for it to be ripped completely off and land hard in the sand a few dozen yards from Eg's garden.

"You've still got seeds inside!" Lawrence reminded a half-weeping Eg as he hoisted him to his feet. "Let them go, Eg! We can rebuild it once the storm passes!"

The boy gave a cry that was half despair and half rage, but didn't resist when Lawrence hauled him into his house. The whole structure was shaking, but the fact that it was built into the mountain helped keep it more stable than the other houses outside, especially the ones with their backs to the open desert.

Lawrence thought about what he did for Sanctuary, how he had protected the entire town from the barrage from Helios. He remembered doing it, remembered gathering the power from deep within himself and then bringing it out into the open air and forming it into a shield. He just didn't remember _how_. He always thought that the Watcher had been manipulating him somehow into doing it, but maybe he could do it again on his own. Maybe he could save Lynchwood.

"Stay here," he said, flipping his hood back up. "I'm apologizing in advance if I fuck this up and get everyone killed."

" _What_?" Eg shrieked.

"Oh, and I might need this afterwards." Lawrence dug into the deep pocket of his coat and pulled out a chunk of Eridium, which he tossed to the spastic man. "Just shove it into my chest or something if I pass out."

"Lawrence, what the f - "

He was out the door and slamming it shut behind him before he could hear any more of Eg's frantic screeching. The wind practically knocked him off his feet the second he tried to take a step forward, but he persisted, moving as quickly as he could towards the northernmost side of the area. Some of the buildings offered him shelter by the time he got close to them, but he bypassed them all for the sake of reaching the very edge of the cliff, by the water wheel that was still chugging away despite the wind blasting it. The town extended a few more dozen feet out beneath him, but he couldn't risk trying to get down there now. He hoped this would be enough.

Lawrence thought of a mantra and began to repeat it over and over in his head as he lifted his arms spread-eagle. The wind threatened to rip his jacket right off his frame, but he ignored it, focusing on one simple thing:

_Save them._

He could feel that great lump of power behind his ribs thrumming as he mentally dug his fingers into it. With a great tug, he brought that power out, forcing it through his skin and out into the open air. The spirals on his arms and face flashed with the expulsion, leaving him tingling from head to toe.

He could feel the Eridium rippling around him, disjointed purple and white wisps flowing directly out of him, out of his core. He thought about bringing those wisps together, weaving them into one giant shield to protect himself, to protect the town and all of its people from the wall of dust and sand that was threatening to rip buildings right off their foundations.

And that's exactly what happened.

Lawrence gasped, but it was lost against the roaring that filled his ears - roaring that was not caused by the storm. With a boom-crack that he felt deep in his body, energy rippled out of him, over him, over the city behind him. He couldn't control it. It surged out of him like a rush of water from a river. It sucked the air out of his lungs with it, took his blood and bones and great chunks of his soul, but he couldn't stop it. He didn't want to.

Lawrence wasn't sure how long he stood like that, spread-eagled and his head tilted skyward as he continued to play the part of a power generator. Eventually he felt hands on his shoulders, along his back, blessedly cool hands that quelled the storm raging out of his flesh. He whined at the feeling and went with the hands when they pulled him backwards. As soon as he was yanked off his feet, his entire body went limp, absent of power as the shield around Lynchwood flickered and died.

"Lawrence," Eg was sobbing almost hysterically from somewhere close. "Please be okay, please be okay. Deputy, is he - "

"I don't know, I don't know," Winger said, sounding much closer. "Lawrence, can ya hear me? God, he's burning up. _Lawrence_!"

Lawrence's mouth didn't want to work, but he still managed to slur out a weak, "Storm?" His teeth rolled around in his mouth alongside his tongue.

"Passed," Winger choked out. "I dunno how ya did it, boy, but ya saved the town, the whole goddamned town. Lawrence? No, no, keep yer eyes open. Lawrence!"

He wanted to apologize for falling asleep on him, but the words wouldn't come. Lawrence shut his eyes and drifted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	56. Chapter 56

Some time later, Lawrence came back into his body. The sight of a plain steel wall a few inches from his face greeted him when he forced his eyes open. He was lying on his side in a cot, drooling into a flat, yellow-white pillow and wrapped up with a thin blanket that felt like heaven against his heated skin. His body was riddled with that familiar, deep feeling of exhaustion that had him sighing again and snuggled deeper into the bed.

"What're you doin'?"

"Reading."

"Reading what?"

Lawrence's eyes drifted open again at the sound of voices. Eg's voice wasn't a surprise - Lawrence realized that it was the kid's bed he was currently lying in - but the sound of Hale's rough, nasally voice was enough to make him tense up slightly with surprise and mild alarm. What the hell was he doing in Eg's house?

"Tips on gardening in rough terrain." Eg didn't sound alarmed to have him there. In fact, he sounded quite calm. "Deputy Winger got the ECHOnet set up in town yesterday, so now I can look stuff like this up. Not that it does me any good."

Lawrence tensed. How long had he been out?

"Why not?" Hale asked.

"I know how to fix the problems, but I don't have the tools to do it."

"What do you need?"

"Legitimate soil would be a great starter," Eg began listing, "and some seeds for edible plants would be even - wait, why do you ask? You're not thinking about getting me this stuff, are you? How would you even...?"

"I can get you dirt. On one condition."

Eg was silent for a moment. It was in that moment that Lawrence considered breaking his cover to come to Eg's defense, but he hesitated, wanting to hear what the brute would request.

"Wh-what's that?" Eg finally asked, voice trembling.

"Teach me how to read."

"What?" Eg choked on a laugh that was half disbelief and half total and utter relief. "Are you serious? You don't know how to read?"

Hale huffed. "If you're gonna make fun of me, never mind - "

"No, no! No, I'll - I'll teach you. But where will you get the dirt?"

"I know a guy."

Eg snickered. "Sure. Okay. You bring me dirt, and I'll teach you how to read. Deal?"

"Deal."

Their conversation continued, and Lawrence let himself slip off again.

He drifted in and out for a while. He wasn't quite sleeping, but he definitely wasn't functioning on full thrusters, either. At first, his dreams - visions? - were comprised of blobs of color and wordless noises that often didn't make a lick of sense to Lawrence. Sometimes he heard Eg's voice pleading with him to stay awake. Sometimes it was Axton, angry and loud in his wordless rage. Once he was sure he heard his mother, but that was foolish.

Eventually he started to see flicks and flashes of the time he spent in Lynchwood as a zombie. Most of his memories featured the rusty metal bars of a jail cell, but also angry golden eyes belonging to the Sheriff. He heard her nasty voice as she laughed at him, snapped at him, called him worthless and other demeaning things. That was probably a daily occurrence for him during his time in Lynchwood.

The fog lifted at one point, revealing Nisha inches from him, her arms around his neck and her eyes a far cry from the sharp orbs Lawrence was used to seeing. “Kiss me,” she snapped, twisting her hands in his hair. He moved on his own accord, trying to obey in his zombie-like state, but he barely had his lips to hers when she shoved him back and turned away,

“Sorry,” he heard her mutter, but that was ridiculous. Nisha never apologized.

That memory and all the ones before it faded from view, but stayed with him this time, filling in the gaps they’d left behind. Thankfully, remembering them didn’t bring about the pain and disorientation than the one about Dukino had, but they did leave him feeling more exhausted than ever.

At some point, he felt a cool something touch his brow that urged him to slowly open his eyes. It took a moment for his vision to clear. "Imogen?"

"Here, honey," the older woman assured him. She was sitting on the edge of the bed and had lain a cool cloth on his brow. "How are you fairing?"

Lawrence forced himself to wake up and actually focus on something. He was warm, and so, so tired, and he told her that. "How long have I been out?"

"Four days."

His eyes snapped wide open. " _Four days_?" The words got lodged in his dry throat and sent him into a brief coughing fit. He hadn't meant to stay in town longer than a week.

Imogen shushed him and forced him back flat. "You're exhausted, Lawrence," she said calmly. "You need bed rest and food."

"Food doesn't do anything for me," he rasped. "Wh-where's Eg?"

"Out back with Hale. What - "

"He has something for me. I need it, right now."

Despite the mild suspicion on her face, Imogen went to fetch him. She returned less than a minute later with the boy in tow.

"You're awake!" Eg exclaimed, cracking a beautiful grin. There was dirt smudged across his left cheek and the bridge of his nose, but what really caught Lawrence's attention was the white-brown bandage wrapped around his left thumb.

"What happened to your hand?"

"Smashed it with a hammer trying to nail together the raised bed for the new garden," Eg explained, shrugging as he wiggled the wounded digit. "I let Hale take over after that, heh."

"That punk's still around?"

Eg's smile became a bashful one. "Yes. We made a deal. I teach him to read, he gets me some soil. I dunno how he managed to find soil in the middle of the desert, but I'm not going to question it at this point. You should see the things already starting to sprout!"

Lawrence cracked a weak grin. "I'll be able to after you hand over that Eridium I gave you."

At first Eg looked briefly confused, but his eyes lit up with the memory and he hurried over to the desk stacked with potted plants. He jerked one of the four drawers open and rummaged around in it before yanking out said Eridium.

"Will this make you feel better?" Eg asked quietly as he approached Lawrence.

"Hell yeah it will. You'll see."

The second it touched Lawrence's bare palm, it began to break down and be absorbed into his bloodstream. At first it was just little chunks and swirls of it being drawn into Lawrence's rapidly-igniting hand, but then Lawrence clenched his hand into a shaking fist, instantly absorbing the rest of the mineral into his body.

Imogen and Eg took several steps backwards as the rest of Lawrence's body began to glow once more with power. He heaved a massive sigh of relief and pleasure at the feeling of strength pooling in his limbs. It hadn't been a huge chunk of Eridium - if he thought about it, he could still feel some of that exhaustion clinging to his bones - but it would be enough to get him back on his feet again.

"Okay," he said, sitting up to crack his back and stretch his arms over his head. "Let's check out that garden of yours, kid - _oh_ my god, why am I naked?" He snatched the blankets up around his bare chest and glowered at Imogen and Eg as they giggled.

"We didn't know what was wrong with you, sweetie," Imogen told him. She wasn't even bothering to hide her grin. "You’re still rather hot."

"I'll say," Eg muttered, earning a light smack from Imogen and another half-hearted glare from Lawrence.

After donning his pants and raggedy old shirt that Imogen had so kindly washed for him, Lawrence followed an excited Eg out of his house and around to the garden. And what a garden it had become, Lawrence realized at the sight of a large raised bed filled to the brim with dark brown earth. There were rows of little domes, some of which had flecks of green peeking out of them. Hale was kneeling in the middle of it in the process of gently transplanting one of the sprouts Eg had been propagating in his windowsill. It was almost funny, watching the big galoot and his massive bear paw hands trying to be tender with the little seedling, but somehow he managed to stick it in the earth and cover its roots without destroying it.

"Holy crap," Lawrence said as they approached. "This looks fantastic, guys. A raised bed was definitely the way to go, I think."

Eg blushed, pleased. "Thanks. I think so, too."

Hale stood up and wiped his dirty hands off on his pants. His movements were slow, Lawrence noted. Hale's dark eyes flicked to Eg to judge his stance before he turned his full attention to Lawrence. "Glow Boy," he said with a small smirk.

"Shitbird. I heard Eg's teaching you how to read. That's a good thing - seriously."

Hale just shrugged, trying valiantly to appear indifferent, while Eg nodded. "He's a fast learner," he said, flashing the larger man a small smile. "I thought it would be harder because I'd never taught anyone anything before, but he's a great student. He's smarter than he gives himself credit for, I think."

"I'm standing right here," Hale said flatly. "I can hear you."

"Then graciously accept the compliment," Eg fired back, sniffing. "That's something you're _not_ good at."

Lawrence regarded the banter between the two kids. Eg's stance was relaxed, his tone more natural than Lawrence had ever heard it as he sassed Hale. Hale still kept a decent distance from Eg, but that might have just been because of Lawrence's presence. Lawrence wondered what had happened between them in the past four days.

"Hale," Lawrence began sweetly as a fake smile snaked its way across his face. "Can I have a word with you in private?"

Hale knew what that meant. It was Eg who seemed oblivious; he bid both men to wait for a second as he darted back inside the house to gather up more seeds and seedlings. As soon as he was out of sight, Lawrence dropped the facade and snagged the younger man by the front of his dirty tank top, nearly toppling him from the raised bed.

"You hurt him, I will break you," he hissed.

Hale's mouth was a thin line as he regarded Lawrence's glowing eyes, the swirl that vanished into his hairline. "I won't," he said.

He expected as much out of the youth and released him. "Good," he said, allowing the fury in his expression to wane. "Take care of him. And his garden."

"You leaving or something?"

"Soon," Lawrence said, turning on his heel. He needed to see Deputy Winger first. "I'll say goodbye when I do."

He left Hale in the garden and made his way down to the lower level of Lynchwood. Winger was in his office and jerked to his feet when Lawrence announced his presence. To his great surprise, Winger wrapped him up in a hug that made the bones in his back creak and pop. When the man finally stepped back, his eyes were wide and watery.

"Don't ever do that again," he ordered, wagging a calloused finger in Lawrence's face. "I never want to see ya look like that again! I don't care if the mountain's collapsin'! Don't _ever_ \- "

"Winger, dude, I'm fine," Lawrence assured him, reaching out to squeeze the man's shoulders. "I just needed to recharge. Sorry if I scared you."

He half expected the deputy to deny the accusation, but the man just sniffed hard and dragged the back of his hand across his nose. "M'not sayin' I don't appreciate what ya did. When a storm like that comes knockin', we usually lose a lot'a the buildin's 'round Gunslinger's Corner. Ya saved a lot'a time and money - maybe even a life or two doin' what ya did."

"That's why I did it." Lawrence plopped himself down into the chair across from Winger's desk. "So. Anything major happen in the four days I've been K.O.'d?"

"Well," the deputy said through a sigh, "I managed to boot up the machine the Sheriff used to communicate with Handsome Jack on Helios."

Lawrence frowned. "What's the bad news?"

"The damn thing's got about six layers of security codes and passwords lockin' me out of its Hyperion database. Says I need an ID drive or code or somethin' to gain full access. I looked 'round for any ID drives, but I guess the Sheriff had hers on her when we burned her corpse."

Great. Lawrence knew for a fact that his ID code wouldn't do a goddamned thing other than alert everyone in that goddamned satellite that he was still alive - assuming his code was even valid for this kind of thing. Jack had made his code useless while on Helios in an attempt to keep him from fleeing. Having it work anywhere else would be stupid.

"I, uh, was able to access the machine's main drive, though," Winger added after a pause. "Not much stored there, but I did find a video clip that ya...might wanna see."

Lawrence's head shot up. At his eager affirmation, Winger led him up the narrow staircase to a single room where Nisha must have slept at one point. The large bed looked unused even now after her death - something that bothered Lawrence.

"You don't sleep here?" Lawrence asked Winger. He was beginning to think the man actually slept at his desk.

The man grunted and shook his head as he headed over to the large console on the other side of the room beneath the boarded-up window. "I ain't touchin' it. God knows what kind'a sick shit that woman did in that bed," he said. Lawrence really couldn't argue with him there.

He followed Winger over to the machine. It was old, built out of scavenged parts rather than legitimate Hyperion-brand tech, and covered in a layer of dust and dirt that must have squeezed in between the boards in the window. Winger blew a chunk of that dust away and pressed a button to boot it up. The thing loaded surprisingly fast despite its issues, and Winger suddenly had the video clip up and waiting for Lawrence to press play.

"It's short," Winger said quietly, "and mildly disturbing. No audio, either, but I still think ya need to see it."

Lawrence's pulse had been beating rapidly since Winger told him about the video. Now his stomach was knotting up, leaving him nauseous on top of anxious. But he knew he had to watch whatever it was Winger was bringing up for him, no matter how awful.

He tapped the giant arrow symbol on the holo-screen and watched the minute and a half-long video start playing.

It was Jack and Nisha, of course. They were horsing around with the camera they'd use to record themselves, grinning and looking genuinely happy as they spoke to each other, voices muted. Then Jack's expression went from teasing to wicked in less than an instant when he turned to look at something off-screen. Nisha swiveled the camera around to follow his gaze, exposing Lawrence in his brain-dead, captive glory. The collar was tight and vibrant around his neck - practically a beacon in the dark room.

Jack moved into frame, still talking to Nisha, before he turned his attention to Lawrence's immobile form. Whatever he said to him got him on his knees and licking the dirt and grime off his boot, which sent both Nisha and Jack into hysterics. The video ended right after Jack kicked Lawrence in the face, sending him into a sprawling, bleeding heap in front of the door.

"That's typically the kind of stupid shit they'd pull with ya whenever I didn't have ya under my watch," Winger said softly as the video stopped. "Makin' ya lick their boots, give 'em massages, that kinda crap - "

Lawrence punched a hole through the machine, plunging his arm up to his elbow in tech. Shit sparked and electricity surged through him, making his hair stand on end and his teeth chatter, but he barely felt the stinging pain. He yanked his arm out along with a fist-full of wires, then sent it back in again with similar results. He went for it a third time, but Winger seized him by the arm and pulled him back a step.

"Lawrence," Winger said loudly, trying to keep his voice level. "I know yer upset. Please, just take a deep breath - "

Curses and animalistic noises spilled out of Lawrence as he thrashed in Winger's grasp. He could rip the deputy's arms off if he wanted to, yet his movements only got weaker and weaker as his vision began to blur with furious tears.

"I hate him," he sobbed angrily, falling onto his ass in a pathetic pile of self-loathing. His legs didn't seem to want to work anymore. "I hate him, I hate him so much."

"I know," Winger said softly, sinking to the ground alongside Lawrence. "I know. I'm so sorry."

Realization over what he'd just done to the only lead he had to filling in the rest of the gaps in his memory hit him like a train. The urge to either vomit or blow something up was too strong to ignore. Lawrence struggled back to his feet and left the room, almost running over Eg as he stormed out into the street.

The sight of the wide-eyed boy made him freeze, made him suck in a few deep, frantic breaths to calm himself down, because if there was anyone who didn't deserve to be on the brunt end of his rage, it was Eg.

"Is everything okay? I...I heard yelling," Eg murmured. "Your hair looks weird."

"I'm fine. Fuckin' peachy," Lawrence spat out, running a shaking hand through his tangled mop of hair that had only gotten worse thanks to the shock he'd gotten. Eg's brow furrowed at the harshness of Lawrence's voice, prompting him to tone it down. "I...I screwed up," he explained through a heavy exhale. "I needed a machine in Winger's office to gain access to Hyperion's database to see if they have any information on my time as a slave, but I just destroyed it in a fit of rage. So now I'm shit out of luck."

Eg hummed and tapped a slender, dirt-encrusted finger against his fuzzy chin. "You said he experimented on you with Eridium, right? You should check out the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve where my mama used to work. They did awful slag experiments on humans and animals alike. Maybe that's where Jack sent you for your...sessions."

Lawrence stared at him.

"I imagine getting into the facility is fairly easy these days," Eg continued. His whole demeanor was changing right before Lawrence's eyes. "But to actually access any of the machines or databases there, you'd need a Hyperion employee's ID drive for sure."

"And where, might I ask, could I acquire one of those?" Lawrence asked slowly, already knowing the answer.

Eg reached beneath the collar of his shirt and fished out a small, cylindrical drive about an inch long dangling from the thin strip of leather around his neck. Lawrence reached for it, but the kid snatched it back with a flick of his wrist. When Lawrence met the kid's gaze, he was startled to find him looking years older, with a glimmer of firm determination shining in his eyes.

"You want my ID drive?" Eg asked. "You do me a favor."

"Oh, so me almost killing myself to protect the whole town wasn't enough for you?" Lawrence snapped in disbelief.

Eg's stony expression did not change in the slightest. "I didn't ask you to do that," he pointed out. "Not that I don't appreciate it. You know we all do."

"What the hell do you want me to do, then? Help with the garden? Shit, I'll lug half the planet over here on my back if that's what it takes to get that drive from you."

"I don't want more dirt. I want revenge."

Lawrence snorted out a laugh, only to abruptly sober up. "You're...you're serious."

"The man who tortured me and the Sisters lives in a place called The Maw."

"Goddammit, Eg - "

"His name's Bogdan. We might have escaped his wrath, but there were others there, others too scared to come with us when we fled. There will always be others so long as Bogdan and his Bog Boys are still alive. I want you to stop this cycle once and for all."

"Eg, I can't - "

"You were a vault hunter," Eg hissed, leaning in. "You know how to fight."

Of course he did. That didn't mean he wanted to, and he told the kid as such.

"Bogdan _deserves_ to die!" Eg screamed, startling Lawrence into taking a step back. "For what he did to me and the others, and all the ones before and after! He won't stop! He'll never stop, not until he's dead and gone! _Please_ , Lawrence!"

Lawrence gritted his teeth and counted to ten in his head. He didn't doubt for one second the asshole deserved a messy, painful death. If the dude was standing right here right now, Lawrence wouldn't even think twice about tearing his disgusting head off his shoulders. Having to actually go track him down, however, was going to burn up valuable time - something Lawrence feared he was running out of these days. Hyperion could strike at any moment.

But what choice did he have? Eg was his key to maybe getting the answers he desired.

"Fine," Lawrence spat. "Fine. Bogdan's head for your ID drive."

"Please don't think me cruel," Eg whispered, tough exterior finally cracking to expose the wounded man within. "I know how much it means for you to have closure. I want closure, too."

Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut and turned away from the younger man. He could have Red direct him to The Maw. He'd raize the thing to the ground, inhabitants and all, then be back to Lynchwood before nightfall.

"Where are you going?" Eg blurted. "You can't go by yourself!"

"I have my doubles. I’ll be fine."

“This isn’t something you can just throw yourself into! Bogdan's fortress is huge. He's got thousands of soldiers, and there are Buzzards patrolling the perimeter constantly at all hours of the day. You're powerful, Lawrence, but I don't think you can just blast your way through Bogdan's forces without some backup - or, at the very least, a distraction."

Lawrence stumbled to a halt and sent the kid a look of disbelief. "Well, thanks for telling me this _before_ I left and got my ass handed to me!”

As strong as he was now, he didn’t quite know how to control his powers, especially offensively. He could probably take on Bogdan and a handful of his dudes, but if a hundred or so of them were rushing him guns blazing, he would more than likely be in trouble, even with his doubles backing him up.

“What the hell do you want me to do, then?” he continued.

Eg opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "I'll go with you - "

"The hell ya will!"

Both Lawrence and Eg turned to where Winger stood in the doorway of his office.

"Eavesdropping, Deputy?" Lawrence asked dryly.

"It's my job to know the happenings in this town," Winger huffed, but Lawrence could see the blush on his tanned cheeks. He turned back to Eg and frowned. "Yer not goin' with him - end of discussion."

"He can’t do this alone!" Eg fired back, sounding like he was on the brink of tears. "There has to be a way. Bogdan can't be allowed to get away with this anymore..."

"I'll go."

The trio whirled around to find Shea standing a few feet from them, no doubt drawn down from the upper level of town by Eg's screaming from earlier. She didn't look angry at him being down on the lower level, though. In fact, with her arms folded across her chest, she looked quite determined.

"Shea," Eg choked out. "You...you can't."

"I’m good with a rifle," she said, coming closer. "Better than the majority of the people living here. I see no reason why I shouldn't be the one to go with Lawrence."

"Your children - "

"Will thank me, regardless of whether or not I come back in one piece." Her expression softened as she reached out and brushed some of Eg's hair out of his face. "If it makes you feel better, I do intend to come back alive and with that bastard's head on a platter for you."

"I’m looking forward to it," Eg remarked darkly, eyes flicking to the ground at his feet.

Lawrence opened his mouth to protest, but Shea shot him a withering look that shut him up. "With that settled, there's just one more problem: transportation. We can't carry three to four days' worth of food and water with us on top of ammunition," she said.

Winger shrugged helplessly. "Ain't no vehicles in these parts. The last batch a' vault hunters that came through here slaughtered the skags my marshals and I used for ridin'. So unless ya plan on hijackin' a train, I think walkin's the only way."

But Shea threw a wrench in that semi-sane plan. "There's no railroad tracks out that way. If you don't have a Buzzard or a vehicle, we’re down to walking."

"Could we steal a car from one of those weird car station things scattered all over the place?" Eg suggested.

Lawrence bit his lip. He might have clearance still, but that would mean alerting Sanctuary to his presence. "No," he answered. "That's not an option."

Shea scowled. "Short of building our own transportation, I think we're out of luck here."

They sat in grumpy, disheartened silence for a moment, each wracking their brains for anything they could do. More ideas were pitched - raiding the bandits out in the Dust for their Buzzards and doing an aerial assault, stealing a convoy truck - but none of them were solid enough to agree with.

Lawrence sat up straighter as the most absurd idea he’d ever had in his life struck him. He turned his gaze towards Main Street, towards the mines where he knew a friendly demon was lurking in the caves below.

When he turned back to the others, he couldn't keep the grin from his face as he told them, "I have an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	57. Chapter 57

"This is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life."

Lawrence had to agree with Imogen's eldest daughter. They along with Eg and Deputy Winger stood in Dukino's corner of Lynchwood watching the great beast slumber from a distance. In the past day, they had done all that they could to prepare for their upcoming journey to The Maw to face off with its leader Bogdan. Winger had his boys go on several raids to collect the ammo they needed, Shea practiced with a pretty decent Hyperion-brand sniper rifle that Larry had literally fished out of a dumpster for her, and the other Sisters had spent a great deal of time sewing together a saddle from various different animal hides the bandits of Lynchwood had brought them - a saddle that Lawrence had spent half the day wrestling onto Dukino's back. It wasn't perfect, but it would do for the journey ahead.

"It is pretty dumb," he agreed. "But right now, this is the only shot we've got. Unless you've got a better idea?"

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes skyward as a silent, "No, but I still think this is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life."

"He's a wild animal," Eg said. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, his doe eyes wide with worry. Lawrence knew he was regretting his decision to trade his ID drive for Bogdan’s head, but he couldn’t change his mind now - not with the whole town rallying to help bring that bastard down. "You really think he's going to listen to you and go where you tell him to go?"

"No, but I'm fairly certain I can at least steer him in the right direction." He was planning on packing a bunch of skag meat pieces and bringing them out when he needed Dukino to turn a certain way. The good ol' "dangling food on a stick" method. It worked on TV, so surely it would work in real life.

This was such a _stupid_ idea.

But it was all they had at this point, so he would have to make it work.

They decided they were going to leave at sunrise the next morning and spent the night among their loved ones. Despite Eg urging him to join them, Lawrence kept to his own house and his own thoughts. He hated that others were getting involved in something so dangerous. Shea’s sisters and even her mother seemed eager for her to slaughter their tormentor despite the risk of her being hurt or worse in the process. He hated that he didn’t know enough about his powers to put them to good use. He could have been there and back by now if he knew how to do anything other than generate shields, teleport to known locations, and heal himself. Yet again, he found himself feeling totally useless.

It was a good thing he didn't need sleep, he thought bitterly as he dragged his ass out of bed as the sky was beginning to brighten.

Dukino had been fairly indifferent to his new attire until Lawrence pulled himself up into the saddle. His added weight, alongside the satchels of food and ammunition that he hauled up there, irritated the giant skag, but when he gave a massive shake and failed to launch a panicked Lawrence off, he was resigned to his fate and sullenly allowed Shea to scramble on board as well.

At the last second, Hale made the decision to come with them. Eg pitched a fit and refused, but whatever the big guy said to him after they'd stepped away from the crowd calmed the smaller man down.

Lawrence watched as Hale extended a hand towards Eg's face, making the boy flinch. Hale immediately went to withdraw, but Eg snatched his hand and brought it to his cheek - its intended destination. The boy's shoulders shook with a sigh as he leaned into Hale's warm palm and shut his eyes. His mouth moved with words meant only for Hale.

Lawrence looked away, content to give them their privacy. The same could not be said for Shea, who openly fumed behind him.

"How do you feel about them?" Lawrence murmured to her.

"I don't like it," Shea said, like he had just asked her about the weather. "I worry for Eg. He's fragile. That man could break him."

"Hale's helping him to be less fragile, I think." Lawrence shrugged. "I already threatened to break him in half if he hurt Eg. I'm assuming you did, too."

"Not yet. Why do you think I'm not protesting him coming along?"

Lawrence hummed and didn't object when Shea forced Hale to sit between them like a giant, sweaty barrier. Lawrence felt more confident in Hale’s abilities as a fighter, mostly due to the fact he went out on raids all the time and came back without a scratch on him while others were practically incapacitated. That didn’t mean he would survive this trip, but it certainly helped to put Lawrence’s mind at ease, at least for a little while.

As they were about to head out, Winger handed over the town’s limited ECHO devices and comm earpieces. “Ya need ‘em more than we do,” he said, offering Lawrence a shaky, wet smile. “Do us all a favor and come back in one piece, y’hear?”

“That’s the plan,” Lawrence said, grinning. “See you in a week, Winger.”

Hopefully.

As Dukino slowly padded his way out into the desert, Shea's children and nieces and nephews waved her goodbye from the safety of the top level of town. She sat twisted around in the saddle waving back at them, even as they grew farther away and harder to see.

"Last chance to bail," Lawrence said to her.

"No way," Shea replied, still waving.

Once out in the open desert with Lynchwood a lump on the horizon behind them, Lawrence summoned his doubles, who promptly fell straight down upon flicking into existence on either side of him. Lawrence called an apology down to them before they reappeared in front of him, balancing on the back of Dukino’s neck and looking confused out of their digital minds.

“Sir?” Red cautioned, still looking warily around at these strange turn of events.

"Can you give me a waypoint to a place called The Maw?" Lawrence asked.

Red cocked his head to the side as he scanned the ECHOnet. A second later he had it. "Continue heading in this direction," he said, eyes flicking straight ahead. "It will take approximately four solar-cycles to reach your destination at the pace we are currently going."

Lawrence frowned down at Dukino. He reached into a nearby satchel and fished out a chunk of skag meat. Clover had wrapped each piece in herbs to hide the scent from Dukino, who would probably find a way to tear the damn bag off and swallow the whole thing if they hadn't taken such precautions. Lawrence tied the skag meat to the end of a long pole and dangled it above Dukino's head, immediately grabbing his attention.

"Seriously?" Hale remarked dryly.

"Shut up. Okay, buddy," Lawrence cooed to Dukino as he lowered the rod in front of his face, "we gotta go in that direction, and we've got a pretty tight schedule to keep to, okay? So just pick up the pace - _Jesus fuckin'_ \- "

Anything else Lawrence had to say came out as a high-pitched scream as Dukino took off in a desperate chase for the unobtainable skag meat. Shea and Hale let out their own yelps and latched onto each other and Lawrence to keep from flying off. Lawrence's doubles flicked out of sight with startled looks of their own.

"Told you this was stupid!" Shea screeched over Dukino's ragged breathing and the wind whipping their hoods right off their heads.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Lawrence fired back with a breathless laugh. It was just like riding a horse, he decided, forcing his hips to move with Dukino's rippling back. A very big, very fast horse.

Hale and Shea followed his lead, trying to move alongside Dukino rather than just bounce around on top of him, and eventually they all worked out a rhythm. They quickly learned that when running at full speed, Dukino's huge leaping gallops could cover a mile in under a minute. By midday, Red reported that they were down to two and a half days of traveling instead of four.

"Told you this was a good idea," Lawrence told the others that night.

Initially Lawrence had wanted to ride straight through, but Dukino had been a panting, slobbering mess by evening and they all agreed to let the guy have a rest. They had just finished their own skag meat dinner and now sat in contemplation around the fire they had built in the shelter of a sand dune. Dukino's massive slumbering frame shielded them from the other side, blocking out the wind and the prying eyes of any unfortunate bandits that might accidentally stumble across their little camp.

"I never said it was a _bad_ idea," Shea pointed out as she picked her teeth clean. "Just stupid."

"My ass hurts," Hale muttered, moving to lie on his side instead of his rump.

"Get used to it," Lawrence told him, smirking. "We've got a few more days of riding, then the ride home. I think. Get my ECHO out of my bag there and read off the coordinates for me?"

Before they left, Winger had given him an old ECHO device to use in lieu of having to call his doubles every dozen miles to make sure they were still on track. Red had already transferred the coordinates The Maw to it, but it had been a while since Lawrence had actually looked at the damn thing.

Hale fetched the device and listed the coordinates of their current location. He barely even batted an eye as he did so.

Lawrence hummed. “Still on track. Good.” He paused and sent Hale a leveled look. "You know how to read.”

The guy froze for a second. "Uh huh," he admitted, setting the ECHO down in defeat. There was no point in arguing - not when he was spitting out words like ‘longitude’ and ‘latitude’ like he used them every day.

"You told Eg you couldn't. Why lie to him?" Lawrence asked while Shea leaned in, immediate suspicious of Hale's intentions.

Hale shrugged. "It's something quiet we can do together," he said. "We just sit and talk. It's nice."

"And that's all you want to do with him?" Shea said, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Just sit quietly together and read?"

"I mean, it's a start."

"So you do plan on having sex with Eg," Shea said bluntly.

Hale's face flushed - a strange look for a man whose expression consistently teetered between blank and angry. “I’m not ‘planning’ on anything," he said quietly, eyes drifting downwards to the swirly design he'd been making in the sand with a stray bone from his dinner. "I’m fine with whatever he wants to do."

"And if he never wants to have sex with you?"

Hale shrugged. “Whatever he wants,” he said again.

Shea's eyes narrowed. With the firelight illuminating her face, she looked quite vicious as she snapped, "You hurt him, I hurt you. Do I need to explain?"

"No, ma'am. Everyone's been giving me that talk lately." Hale frowned. “I ain't stupid. I know not to, like, move too fast around him, or raise my voice, or be scary or whatever. I'm trying to be patient and let him go at his own pace."

"Good." Shea sniffed.

Hale paused, then cracked a small grin. "He would probably stab me before you could wring my neck," he commented. "I've been teaching him how to use a blade. Gave him mine before we left."

Shea stared at him. "Is that a euphemism for sex?"

"Wh - no!" the boy exclaimed, turning red again. "No, I'm being literal. I thought maybe he'd, I dunno, feel safer if he was armed. And I know he doesn’t like guns, so I went with a knife instead."

The woman hummed, seemingly satisfied with that answer. “We should get some rest,” she said after a moment of contemplative silence. “Shall I take first watch?”

“I don’t need sleep,” Lawrence reminded them. “Get some shut-eye and I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

Neither Lynchwood resident argued with that. They didn’t really have anything to sleep on outside of their coats, but the sand was soft and still warm with the light of the day. They bundled themselves up and settled in for the short night.

Lawrence leaned against Dukino’s frame and eyed the man lying in the sand across the fire from him. "Hale?" he whispered.

The kid grunted and rolled over to squint at him through tired eyes.

"Why did you decide to come with us?"

"I dunno. I’d love to shoot this dickweed Bogdan right in his stupid face, but Shea's got dibs." He shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I'm just trying to play the hero for Eg. He likes the hero-type. I mean, who doesn't? I dunno. Guess I'm just trying to prove to him that even us bandits can be heroes, if we want to."

"I don't think you have to prove anything to him," Lawrence said gently. "Other than the fact you don't intend to hurt him. But I think he already knows that. He's been gravitating towards you since he spoke to you in jail."

Even in the dim lighting from the fire, Lawrence could see Hale turning a little red. "I like him," he mumbled, digging a huge palm into his one eye. "I want to prove it to him and his Sisters. I want to give them a reason to trust me."

Lawrence flashed him a smile. "I think you'll win them over eventually. Even Shea."

"I heard that."

Both men chuckled at the woman's clipped, muffled voice from the flip-side of the campfire. "Get some sleep," she ordered. "We move out in four hours."

Hale rolled over to do just that. Lawrence stayed up, poking at the fire, until it was finally time to move again.

~

With Dukino freshly energized and his belly full of a few dumb scavengers that had tried to overrun their camp in the wee hours of the morning, the behemoth was raring to go by sun-up. Hale and Shea looked like they had slept on a cold desert floor for only an hour or two, but they made no move to complain about their exhaustion as Lawrence helped them up into the saddle.

The next couple of hours passed in silence, peaceful even when Lawrence spotted what looked like a storm brewing off to the north. The dust clouds were running parallel to them and in the opposite direction, though, so Lawrence was convinced they were fine. He just hoped that the storm would dissipate before it hit Lynchwood. He wasn’t around to protect the city this time.

Another day of riding at breakneck speed through the desert passed. By midday, Shea was suddenly yelling "Stop!" and ordering everyone to get down to the ground. The two men obeyed without question, tossing down their supplies and dismounting in one fluid motion. Lawrence chucked Dukino the piece of skag meat he'd been chasing for most of the day, then joined Hale and Shea from where they sat at the base of a dune.

Shea locked eyes with him and wordlessly tilted her head towards the dune before she began to silently climb up the side of it. She reached the top first and gave a full-body shudder at whatever lay beyond it. Lawrence was quick to join her with Hale bringing up the rear.

"That's it," she hissed, swinging her rifle off her shoulder to look through its scope. "The Maw. Bogdan's stronghold."

Lawrence could certainly see why such a place would get a name. The stronghold was located in a deep crater that was surrounded by sharp, jagged rocks that jutted out of the sandy earth like teeth. From the sky, it probably looked like an awful, gaping mouth just waiting to gobble up the unsuspecting. From their angle, it just looked intimidating. But Lawrence wasn’t afraid.

"I thought Eg said that this place was heavily guarded," Hale remarked as he gazed through a pair of ratty, cracked binoculars. "I don't see anyone. No Buzzards, no one patrolling the perimeter. Nothin'."

Lawrence took the binoculars from him. He was right; short of the wind kicking up dust and tumbleweeds, there was no sign of movement in or around the crater. "Is it like, changing of the guard time or something?" he asked, 

Shea shook her head. She looked pale and a little frightened as she said, "No, this is very strange. There should be men crawling all over. Bogdan was adamant that no one got to his...treasures," she spat the word out as her expression briefly twisted with disgust. "Anyone caught slacking in their guard duties was executed."

"Jeez," Lawrence muttered. "Well...could they have abandoned the fortress?"

"Why would they? They have shelter, access to an underground stream of infinite clean water. It's a desert paradise, if you ignore what happens inside it." Shea shook her head. "Something's wrong."

"They couldn't possibly have been expecting us. You've been gone for what, six months?"

"More than that now." Shea hefted the sniper rifle over her shoulder. "Let's get closer."

Reaching the jagged rocks that made up the edge of the crater was uneventful. They crept around a good portion of the exterior, keeping their eyes and ears peeled, but only the wind whistling through the crater disturbed the area. It looked utterly deserted.

Shea eventually said fuck it and led them to the elevator that took them down into the crater to the outskirts of the stronghold. The place was surrounded by a twenty-foot tall metal-comprised wall that was probably just as thick, and yet the front gate of the place was wide open, revealing the town's interior in plain sight to them. It looked like a regular town, with honest-to-god buildings and even concrete streets, albeit broken in places.

"What the hell," Shea hissed, gripping her rifle as they strolled over the threshold. "I would much rather have to shoot my way through the front door than put up with this awful silence. It's creeping me out."

Lawrence had to agree with her there. "Okay," he said through a sigh. "Shea, see if you can get up high - somewhere you can see most of the town from so you can give us backup with your rifle if need be. Hale, you're with me."

Shea frowned. "I want to kill him."

"We don't even know if Bogdan's here. If he is, rest assured, I will drag him kicking and screaming over to you so you can bash his brains out," Lawrence promised. "Right now, we don't know what we're dealing with and could really use you up high."

That seemed to pacify the woman. She turned and darted up a nearby staircase, towards one of the lookout towers that spanned the fortress. Lawrence trusted her to know her way around the place. He and Hale were left to blindly roam the quiet streets of Bogdan's fortress, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of life, friendly or otherwise.

Ten minutes of careful creeping down the main street of town later, Lawrence was left with a terrible, sneaking suspicion that the town had been abandoned.

"I really don't think he's here," he said after some time. "I don't think _anyone’s_ here. Shea, anything on your end?"

The comm in his ear crackled. "I've walked the entire length of the ramparts twice and nothing. I'm coming down to you guys."

They waited for her to join them in the middle of the street. She was livid when she approached. "There's one place we must check," she spat. "If they've truly abandoned this place, Bogdan wouldn't leave anything of...of his behind."

It took Lawrence a second to figure out what she meant. They followed Shea towards one of the larger, more lavish looking houses that lined the street. It had no windows and only a huge metal door to offer any fresh air or sunlight. Currently the handles to the doors were chained together and held in place by a massive iron lock.

Shea reached out and touched the lock. "This is the building he kept us locked up in," she muttered. "We need to open it."

Lawrence didn't question her. With a mental command of _break_ , he reached out and yanked the chain and lock off in one swipe of his glowing hand. It fell with a muffled thump into the sand and the door swung open, spilling light into the otherwise dark chamber.

Shea didn't bother checking if the coast was clear; she darted past Lawrence towards the back of the room. Lawrence went to follow, only to freeze at the sight of three young women huddled near the far wall: two quite pregnant, and another with an infant in her arms and a toddler at her hip.

"Shea?" the girl with the child in her arms gasped. "Oh my god - Shea!"

The other two girls looked terribly confused as Shea and the other woman embraced tightly, but that bafflement quickly turned to terror at the sight of Lawrence and Hale standing in the doorway. Both men instinctively ducked out of sight, afraid of making the situation worse. Shea could explain everything to the poor women, and then they'd leave this horrid, disgusting place for good, Lawrence thought, grinding his teeth.

He realized that he was staring blankly at the small shack across the street and blinked, bringing the thing into focus. There was no door, which allowed him to make out the form of someone inside, unmoving.

"Fuck," he spat, moving forward with Hale quickly bringing up the rear.

They got maybe three feet from the shack's doorway when an the awful stench made them recoil half a step - like shit and piss and death. Lawrence brought a hand to his face and pushed onward into the shack, only to want to run away immediately.

A man, limp and kneeling in a puddle of his own fluids, was strung up by his wrists in the center of the room.

"Jesus," Hale hissed behind him. "Is he dead? He's gotta be dead, I mean, look at him."

The man looked even worse up close. His face, already dark from his skin tone, was a mess of bruises and lacerations. His one eye was swollen shut, the other gone - probably dug out of his skull, if the cuts around his eyelids were any indication. He was naked save for a strip of cloth that must have at one point been a functioning pair of underpants; without his clothes, they could see all of the bruises and lacerations spanning almost every inch of the man's body, including the fact his left hand had been severed at the wrist.

Lawrence summoned his doubles. He didn't give either of them the chance to greet him, instead barking: "Red, status report." When the badass started listing all of the man's ailments, Lawrence quickly became overwhelmed and snapped, "Just the life-threatening shit!"

Red pointed out the man's seriously infected stump, his missing eye, and the fact that he had a lacerated spleen that was slowly but surely making him bleed to death.

Lawrence bit his lip. "How long do we have?"

"Cannot confirm. The wound is small, but he's clearly been bleeding for at least a day."

"Just leave him," Hale said quietly. "We don't even know who he is."

Lawrence was about to consider it, or at least putting the poor bastard out of his misery, when a cut-off gasp from the doorway of the torture shack made him turn around. Shea stood in the threshold with her hands over her mouth.

"Christophe," she choked out, stumbling forward and falling to her knees next to the man. "Oh, god, we all thought you were dead!"

"Friend of yours?" Hale asked.

Honest-to-god tears began to trickle down Shea's pale cheeks as she undid the man’s bindings and gently lowered his limp body to the ground. "He helped us escape," she said wetly. "He and Haema - they fell in love. Her children are his. We thought he'd gotten caught when he didn't meet us outside The Maw. We thought Bogdan killed him." She sucked in an agonized breath as she touched the side of the man's brutalized face. "All this time, he's been locked up here, being tortured..."

The second her hand touched his skin, he recoiled - no doubt conditioned to think that any touch he felt would immediately equal pain. Christophe groaned quietly, but fell still again as his body continued to shut down.

"He's still alive!" Shea exclaimed, simultaneously elated and horrified. "We - we gotta get him out of here!"

"Shea, he's bleeding to death," Lawrence said quietly.

"So make it stop!" she yelled, tearing her gaze off her dying friend to stare at Lawrence through wide, watery eyes. "You've got these - magic powers, or whatever! Use them to do good again!"

Lawrence stared back at her, his surprise waning away into determination. He had healed Axton and Gaige back when Sanctuary had been under attack - surely he could do it again now. He just needed to figure out how to go about it.

He looked at his doubles. "Red, put your flame to his arm. See if you can burn some of the infected bits off," he ordered as he rolled up his sleeves.

His double did as he commanded and cupped his hands around the stump that used to be Christophe's hand. The man didn't even stir as Red burned his flesh. An even more awful stench filled the room, making Hale retch and stumble outside with the women, who recoiled from him more out of disgust than fear.

Eventually Red pulled back. "I've done what I can."

"Good. Blue, if he konks out on me, get ready to give him a jolt," Lawrence continued as he reached into his coat pocket and absorbed another chunk of Eridium. He wasn't sure how much he was going to need; hopefully this would be enough. "I might be able to heal him, but I think bringing dudes back from the dead is a little beyond my ability."

"Eyeball, captain!" Blue said, flicking his wrist away from his transparent forehead in salute.

"Okay," Lawrence gritted out, placing his hands on the man's ravaged chest. He focused on the man's spleen first, intending to heal it and get rid of all the extra fluids hanging out where they shouldn't have been. He shut his eyes, trying to reach out with that ball of power flickering against his ribs. He reached inside himself and pulled out a strand of it, then pushed it into Christophe's chest, leading it to the battered organ. The organ took what it needed and left enough behind to clean up the blood and fluid that had leaked out of it into Christophe's chest cavity.

"You've healed his internal bleeding," Red reported after some time, his voice no more than a deep echo coming from nowhere. "Focus on his eye socket now, sir."

Lawrence's mental eye moved to the man's head. Lawrence doubted he could regrow the man's eye, but he could get rid of the bits threatening to infect other parts of his head. He placed his palm over the socket and concentrated, mentally chanting words like _help_ and _heal_ and _fix_ and _save_. The power in his hands understood and sought out the offending bits on its own, eradicating them with a small purple spark that only he could see.

Lawrence's hands were shaking by the time he moved to place his them on the man's chest, seeking out any bones or other infections that needed to be treated. He could feel the flesh beneath his touch mending with each strand of energy drifting out of his own body. He grew weaker as Christophe grew stronger, until finally Lawrence had to pull his hands away with a heavy exhale.

Christophe's body, still a little bruised and battered but in one piece, heaved, and a second later he was able to open his eye. He blinked blearily in confusion and let out a whine as some more of his less life-threatening wounds began to close over, both inside and out, leaving him more awake and aware than he had been in probably a very long time.

Eventually he looked at the woman kneeling above him. "Shea?" he choked out, horrified. "Oh - oh god, no, did Bogdan find you? I-I tried so hard, but he still caught me - "

Shea shushed him until he fell quiet again, albeit still miserable until she told him, "We escaped, Christophe. We made it to a safe place - all of us, all thanks to you."

The man's lower lip wobbled. "Haema?"

"Safe, along with your girls. You did it, Christophe."

A dry sob finally escaped him as his battered lips curled back into a relieved smile. Some of his yellowed teeth were missing. "Good. Good. Can I go to sleep now?"

"Soon," she promised, voice cracking. "Can you just tell us one thing first? Where is everyone? The town's practically deserted."

Christophe hummed. "I don't know. After Bogdan grabbed me and threw me in here, time...kinda became meaningless. I don't know anything about the outside world right now, I'm sorry."

Shea sent Lawrence a grim look that he returned. Something just wasn't right here, and the urge to just _get out_ was mounting in everyone.

Unfortunately, by the time Shea and Lawrence hoisted Christophe's body up and moved to drag him outside, they realized that they hadn't listened to that urge fast enough.

A group of armed bandits stood outside the shack. The women were huddled together by one of the men, who had a gun pressed to the one woman's child. Hale, quite visibly livid, was on his knees with a gun pointed at his own head.

"Howdy," one of the men, evidently the leader of the pack, said, sounding as if he was grinning behind his metal mask. "Dad said we might be gettin' some visitors. So nice of y'all to stop in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	58. Chapter 58

"Fuck," Shea hissed under her breath.

Lawrence took in the sight of the dozen or so armed men that had silently managed to corner them while they'd been distracted inside the shed with Christophe. They all wore shades of green and brown - the kind of colors you'd find in a bog, Lawrence noted, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He was surprised they weren't dressed like they'd just crawled out of one - all stringy with algae and mud. That probably would have been more impressive.

"Nice to see you again, Shea," the leader said. “Didn't think we'd be seeing you again until the end of the week - maybe sooner. What a nice surprise to see that you've come home early!"

Shea opened her mouth, but Lawrence elbowed her, quickly cutting off whatever seething, awful thing she had been preparing to fire at the other man. Said man noticed Lawrence for the first time and let out a small gasp.

"Oh, how rude of me," he blurted with false sincerity. He removed his mask, revealing somewhat familiar dark hair, steely eyes, and a scarred, pock-marked face that maybe at one point been on the way to being relatively handsome before that train derailed. "My name's Sutton, oldest living son of Bogdan. Perhaps you've heard of me."

"Uh, actually, we're looking for your father," Lawrence said, shifting so that most of Christophe's dead weight was resting on Shea. "Heard a lot of interesting stuff about the dude."

"Yup!" Sutton declared proudly, puffing out his chest. "He's the strongest guy on this side of Pandora, with a thousand men willing to die for him! His legacy will live on forever through us, his beloved sons!"

"Right," Lawrence drawled, slowly rolling his eyes to meet Shea's piercing stare. The woman was practically vibrating from rage, but she was doing a good job of keeping herself in check. "Can't say I've ever heard of you, though. Apparently your father doesn't advertise his sons much."

All of Sutton's pride and bravado got sucked out of him. "Well, uh, Dad's got a lot on his plate right now! And he's also got a lot of sons."

Lawrence tried not to let his lip curl too much with disgust. "So I've gathered."

Sutton hummed as he sized them up. "You know, you got a lot of gall, coming to town like this."

"Like this?"

Sutton gestured to the whole lot of them. "There's what, three of you? It's an insult to my father! He's strong enough to face an entire army!"

"Yeah, well, for your information, we've got more than enough skill and power to take all of you down, thanks," Lawrence said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh?" Sutton laughed. "And who might you be?"

"I," Lawrence began, drawing the word out as he frantically wracked his brain for something, anything, _just spit something out asshole_ \- "I am a god."

Literally everyone, even Lawrence's doubles who were still on standby mode inside the shack, sent him wide-eyed looks. Lawrence cleared his throat and reaffirmed his statement with a solid, "Yep, you heard me. A god."

"A god," Sutton echoed flatly. "Seriously?"

"He does sorta look like one," the masked bandit with the gun pointed to the wailing child muttered.

Shea's head jerked up. "Thomas?" she barked. "Is that you?"

The man flinched and pushed his mask up with the butt of his gun, revealing a relatively young-looking man with wide eyes and a weak chin. "Uh, y-yeah, h-hi, Mom."

Now it was Shea's turn to get blasted with wide-eyed stares. She ignored them as her lip curled in disgust. "Jesus, Tommy, seriously? Pointing a gun at a child? I'd say I raised you better than that, but your disgusting excuse of a grandfather ripped you from me before I could do that."

The man flinched, ashamed, and almost let the weeping child go until he caught sight of his boss's blistering stare. He hastily lowered his mask and brought his gun back up to the child's head, making him cry with renewed, frightened vigor.

"If you're a god, do something godlike," Sutton ordered, turning back to Lawrence. For a moment that sneering, juvenile attitude was gone, replaced by glimpses of the man that they were hunting down.

Lawrence thought about blowing Sutton's head clean off his shoulders, but wasn't sure he could pull that off without hurting the women or Hale. That and he had already used up a lot of the Eridium in his system healing Christophe. He had a few shards in his pockets, but still figured he should try to stay on the defensive for now.

He held up his empty, semi-glowing arms. "Behold as I duplicate myself right before your very eyes," he said, sounding like some cheap jackass magician. Still, when Red and Blue flickered to life on either side of him, the bandits all jumped back in shock, Sutton included.

Red and Blue shifted awkwardly where they stood, unsure of whether or not they should do anything. Lawrence kept his mouth shut, hoping that this would be enough to get the gang to submit.

No such luck, of course.

"They look like holograms," one of the men said once the shock began to wane. "They're not even like, exact duplicates."

Sutton frowned. "Cheap-ass bullshit, if you ask me," he snapped in agreement. A wicked grin snaked across his face. "I've got a real test for you, bro. If you're really a god, bring that lady's kid back from the dead."

Lawrence's heart plummeted into his stomach as he and everyone else turned to Tommy. The child's mother let out a scream and fell to her knees, pleading with Sutton and Tommy not to do anything to her boy. Her pleas made Tommy flinch and start to hyperventilate as he turned to face his boss.

"Dude - sir - this kid's technically our blood," he babbled desperately. "Bogdan's kid, sir, I-I can't just - "

"Sure you can," Sutton cooed viciously. "You seem so sure of the fact that this assclown's a god. He can prove it to all of us right now. Go on, Tommy. Pull the trigger."

"Tommy," Shea hissed, fury waning rapidly into fright. "You're not a child-killer, Tommy, don't do it."

But Tommy, under the glower from his boss, began to lift his gun once more, and Lawrence panicked.

"No! Stop, okay, I’m not - I can't bring someone back from the dead," he blurted. "Don't shoot the kid. Please."

Tommy looked utterly relieved, as did the child's mother, while Sutton frowned and began to move closer to Lawrence.

"So you admit that you're a liar," he said. He brandished the knife out of its sheathe on his belt and began to run the blade gently against his gloved fingers. "Do you know what we do to liars in these parts, bro? Go on, take a guess."

"Stab them?" Lawrence suggested, keeping calm. It only seemed to piss the guy off further.

Sutton strode forward and jabbed the blade right under his chin, drawing blood. He didn't seem to notice that the wound was gone as quickly as it had formed. "We flay them alive," he said through clenched teeth, slowly drawing the blade along the side of Lawrence's face with just enough pressure to cause pain. "Though with your ugly, scarred mug, we might have to skip your face and get right to the fun part."

"Which is...?"

Lawrence's serenity finally struck a nerve in Sutton, prompting him to flip his knife around and bury it between two of Lawrence's ribs. He felt the stab of pain, the pressure against his lung, but the sensations faded soon enough as his body put the few remaining bits of Eridium in his blood to good use.

"Rude, _bro_ ," Lawrence snarked, grabbing the handle of the knife and ripping it from his body. He made sure the whole bandit gang could see the wound as it healed right up like nothing had ever happened.

"A god," one of the other men babbled as he took a shocked couple of steps backwards. "He wasn't kidding! Holy shit, we've pissed off a deity, boss, we gotta - "

Sutton blasted the guy's head clean off his shoulders with a shotgun he pulled off his back. The lone infant began to scream, startled by the noise; it only further enraged Sutton, who whirled around, pointing the shotgun at the group of women. There was a pretty good chance Sutton wouldn't actually pull the trigger, but Tommy didn't seem to realize that and lunged for the weapon. Sutton panicked and pulled the trigger, sending Tommy hurling backwards with a gargled cry.

Shit hit the fan. Hale whirled on the stunned man behind him and landed a jaw-breaking punch to his face. Lawrence lunged forward with his newly-acquired knife, signalling to his doubles to unleash hell, while Shea dumped Christophe back into the shack. The other women were already moving, darting into the shack as well just as gunfire began to erupt from Sutton and his men.

A bullet snagged Lawrence in his chest, but it healed in a matter of seconds. Red ignited three poor sods while Blue finished two more off with a rapid-fire blast of electricity that left them smoldering from the inside out. Lawrence hurled the blade and was pleasantly surprised when it nailed Sutton in the shoulder, knocking him off-balance long enough for Lawrence to tackle his ass to the ground and knock his shotgun in Hale's direction. The big lug snatched it up without pause and blew two more bandits to hell, quickly ending the fight before it could really even begin.

"Where did Bogdan go?" Lawrence snarled, gripping the front of Sutton's shirt. When he didn't respond, Lawrence ripped the knife out of his shoulder, making him cry out, and threatened to slide it between his ribs, just as Sutton had done to him not five minutes earlier. "Where is Bogdan? Tell me, you piece of shit!"

Sutton sneered up at him. "Up yours, skaglick."

Of course he wouldn't just admit it. Rolling his eyes, Lawrence stabbed the kid once in the gut, then stood up and began to drag Sutton kicking and screaming back towards the entrance of town. His wounds kept him from attacking like he so desperately wanted to do, but it didn't keep him from thrashing and cursing and otherwise being an annoying prick.

Beyond fed up, Lawrence hauled him to his feet and slammed him into the fortress's threshold. Corpses were already strung up there as a warning; a handy collection of pre-made nooses were at his disposal, and he wasted little time in nabbing one.

"Last chance before I string you up here like the pig you are," he said, tightening the noose. " _Where is Bogdan_?"

Sutton eyed the rope, clearly nervous, but kept his mouth shut. Lawrence fitted the noose around his neck despite the guy's whimpers and half-assed attempts at stopping him.

The second Lawrence pulled the rope tight, Sutton cracked. "I-I don't know," he said quietly, only to repeat it in a shrill scream when Lawrence punched him in the knife wound. "I don't know, I swear, he went to go get his property and left me in charge here, that's all he told me!"

Lawrence narrowed his eyes. "Property? You mean the Sisters?"

"Th-the what?"

"The women he kidnapped. The women he forced to bear his children and grandchildren."

Sutton scoffed. "They're just breeders - "

"They're human beings!" Lawrence roared, slamming the guy into the door frame. "Not objects! Your father is a fuckin' pig and I'm gonna enjoy watching him get gutted by the women he wronged!" He leaned in close. "I won't get to destroy him. But I can take that rage out on you."

With that, Lawrence tossed the rope over the door frame, caught the end of it as it fell, and wasted little time in yanking it taught, hoisting Sutton kicking and flailing into the air like he weighed nothing. Choked noises escaped the man as he clawed at the rope around his neck, but it was too late.

A part of Lawrence - perhaps the last wisps of Timothy - almost felt bad. This man had been raised to believe what his father believed. It seemed like there were several themes on this side of the galaxy, with shitty parenting being one of them. Still, that couldn't excuse Sutton's behavior.

After Sutton's body stopped jerking and making terrible noises, Lawrence returned to the group on shaking legs. He found Shea kneeling by Tommy's corpse. Her eyes were dry, her face expressionless.

"I might have birthed him, but he was no son of mine," she told Lawrence.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm used to that asshole taking things away from me," she said as she rose to her feet.

Lawrence's brow furrowed. "He won't take anything of yours ever again."

Shea huffed out a noise that was almost a laugh. "We have to find him first. And right now, we have no leads, unless Sutton coughed something up before you killed him. Good job, by the way."

Lawrence shrugged at the praise. It hadn't quite hit him yet that he'd just killed a guy in a pretty gruesome way. A pretty Handsome Jack-like way, now that he thought about it: done in a fit of rage with his bare hands. At least this asshole deserved it and wasn't just some poor Hyperion intern caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Bogdan's out looking for you guys," he told her, shaking off his anxiety for the time being. There were more important things to dwell on at the moment. "That's all I could get out of him. I don't think his ‘hero’ of a father actually kept him in the loop with much."

Hale came up behind them, still toting Sutton's shotgun. "If that douche took like, literally his entire army out into the desert, is it dumb to assume that he knows where the Sisters are and is on the way to get them back?" he asked.

Lawrence locked eyes with Shea. "But how would he have found out where we went?" she asked.

"How many thriving bandit camps are in the desert?" Hale shrugged. "Not many, I assume, and Lynchwood's got a reputation - oh, shit." The kid cut himself off as his eyes grew wide. "The other day, a whole raiding party went missing. I mean, that shit happens sometimes so nobody really thought much of it. But what if it's related?"

A new wave of anxiety slammed into Lawrence. He recalled that sandstorm on the horizon that they'd passed a little more than halfway through their trek to the Maw, only to quite suddenly realized that in all likelihood, it hadn't been a sandstorm at all.

"Shit," Shea spat, back-pedaling towards the shack where the women and Christophe were waiting. "We're leaving - _now_."

The three women needed no convincing to get the hell out of the place that had been their prison for months. As they passed Sutton's dangling corpse in the doorway of the fortress, they took turns spitting on it with all the silent rage of a woman scorned.

Their anger gave way into legitimate fear when they stepped off the elevator and into a world unknown to them. The giant skag rolling around happily at the sight of them surely didn't help to calm them any, though the little boy was delighted by the "puppy" and whined when his mother wouldn't let him near Dukino.

"We can't all fit on Dukino," Hale pointed out grimly.

Lawrence hissed under his breath and dug his fingers into his greasy curls. He hadn’t thought all of this through. "Okay," he muttered, turning to Red. "Where's the nearest Catch-A-Ride station?"

Red pointed in the opposite direction. Bidding everyone to stay put, Lawrence took off. Scrambling up the unstable sandy dunes was beyond annoying, and by the time he made it to the station almost a full ten minutes later, he was sweating buckets.

Scooter's lovely pre-recorded voice automatically began spouting his catchphrase as soon as the console detected his presence. Lawrence didn't want to risk getting locked out or zapped or something if he input his personal code to unlock a vehicle. That left one option - one that he really, really wasn't too keen on doing. But he had no other choice.

He hit the little call button on the console and waited. It only took a minute for Scooter to pick up with his typical cheerful, "Welcome to Scooter's Catch-A-Ride customer service line! What can I do ya for?"

Lawrence took a deep breath. "Scooter, it's me, Lawrence."

"Hmm, can't say I know anyone by that name - "

"The Handsome Jack body double that spent half a year in Sanctuary faffing about with the rest of you guys!" Lawrence snarled. "Glows purple, fucked up face - _that_ Lawrence! Dude, it's me. I need your help, Scooter, please."

The comm gave a crackle as Scooter let out a whoop. " _Lawrence_? Well, shit, son, it's good to hear from ya!" he practically howled. "Y'know, everyone was super sad when you up and vanished like ya did. I mean, it was kinda rude, don't ya think? Just leavin' without so much as a goodbye. And man, poor Axton - dude flipped out and spent like, a week searchin' half a' Pandora for ya. He'll be mighty happy to hear yer still alive an' kickin'!"

Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut. "He can't know, Scooter. Nobody can know that you've spoken to me today, all right?"

"Uh, I mean, sure," Scooter said haltingly, confused. "If that's what ya want. Can I at least tell 'em yer alive? At this point, a lott'a folk are thinkin' you like, left the planet or somethin'. It would cheer 'em right up to know that yer okay - "

"No," Lawrence cut him off. Hot tears burned the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away. "It's better if everyone thinks I'm gone."

"All right." Scooter sounded quite disappointed. Lawrence had never really spoken much with the mechanic during his stay in Sanctuary, but hearing him sound so down about his decision to stay gone made him wish he had.

"Look, the reason why I'm calling is because I need access to your Catch-A-Ride - just this once, I promise."

"Shit, son, you can use 'em whenever you want! I never cut yer access code. Not when there was a chance you might've been walkin' 'round out there, all alone and, y'know...car-less."

Lawrence sniffed. "You're a good man, Scooter."

"Aw hell, I sure as shoot try. You take care now, y'hear? An' I won't tell nobody we talked today. Unless, y'know, someone finds out and threatens to beat the crap outta me - then I might have to spill the beans."

"Well, make sure no one finds out," Lawrence suggested. "Goodbye, Scooter."

"Bye, Law!"

Lawrence cut the call and summoned a vehicle faster than he thought was humanly possible. A bandit technical appeared with a flush of digital particles; he was jumping into the driver's seat before it was fully finished materializing.

It took him less than thirty seconds to get back to the group. Christophe was awake now, but still looking rather ragged, even as Shea wrapped a strip of cloth, donated by one of the pregnant women from their thin coat, around his head to cover the hole where his eyeball had once sat.

"We got a plan?" he rasped as Lawrence hopped out of the truck.

"I drive like hell back to Lynchwood hopefully in time to save the day," Lawrence said. It sounded even lamer out loud than it did in his head, and apparently everyone agreed with him.

"It's still gonna take us like, two days at least to get back to Lynchwood," Hale stated. "Even with you driving straight through with boost."

Shea started ripping at her hair. "There has to be a faster way."

Lawrence bit his lip and wracked his brain for solutions. He could definitely teleport himself back to Lynchwood, but that meant leaving the others to fend for themselves out here. He contemplated trying to teleport the entire vehicle and its occupants, but he hesitated to try. He hadn't mastered landings yet, let alone landings in a vehicle with six other people - two of whom were pregnant - and two babies. The thought of even trying that made him cringe. But Lilith managed to teleport an entire city and its occupants once while she had been hopped up on Eridium. Surely he could do the same for a truck full of people, right?

His conflict must have shown on his face. Shea tilted her head at him and pursed her thin lips. "If you've got a plan, let's hear it," she said.

He told them hesitantly, reaffirming the fact that he wasn't sure if he could safely do it. "I'm worried about the children and the women," he admitted. "I don't know if I can do it without hurting them. Or any of us, really."

"Even if you do, you can just heal us, right?" Hale asked.

"You guys, sure." He had enough Eridium on him to heal half the country, as far as he was concerned. "Not too sure how I'd be able to work my magic on two unborn babies, though."

"Do what you've gotta do," the woman Shea knew, Meg, said as she cradled her youngest to her bosom. "If it ends with that bastard dead, I'm fine with getting a little banged up. So are Ione and Paz."

The other two nodded in affirmation, hands on their swollen bellies.

Lawrence stared at them, gnawing on his bottom lip until Shea slapped his arm. "We have to go," she told him firmly. "Let's _go_ , Lawrence."

They got in the car, with the women in the cab with Lawrence while Shea, Christophe, and Hale took up residence in the bed. Lawrence hated that they couldn't all fit inside; if he teleported them and rolled the truck, Shea, Christophe and Hale were as good as dead. If, y'know, they weren't already dead from him teleporting them through time and space. Just because his organs didn't liquefy didn't mean theirs were safe.

"Buckle up," he said, half serious. The truck didn't come with seat belts, but the women did their best to hunker down. Meg's little boy was wedged between all of them, his wide eyes seemingly permanently locked onto Lawrence.

He offered the kid a smile, but it only frightened the boy into burying his face into his mother's side. Lawrence wondered if he had already been traumatized in his youth. The thought made his blood boil.

Determination renewed, Lawrence took two chunks of Eridium out of his pocket - one of a significant size while the other rested snugly in the palm of his hand. He wasn't sure how much he'd need to do this, so he figured better safe than sorry and absorbed both chunks through his skin. They melted into thin wisps that filled his entire being, and Lawrence tried to swallow down his groans of pleasure as his body eagerly gobbled it all up. It was more than he usually did at one shot and it left him trembling in his seat, glowing from head-to-toe and feeling as if he needed to jump out of his fleshy body.

When he finally got a hold of himself and glanced to his right, he noticed all three women staring at him through wide eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, feeling himself burn for an entirely different reason. He cleared his throat and addressed everyone when he asked, "Ready?"

Hale poked his head over the sunroof and balked at him. "Jesus, dude, if you'd looked like this twenty minutes ago, maybe those assclowns would've believed your story about being a god," he said.

Lawrence turned to look at himself in the rear view. All he could see were his eyes, alight with purple and white. The swirl on his forehead was just as bright, as were his hands when he looked down at where they sat clutching the steering wheel. He was sure the rest of his body was aglow too. He could see the skin of his right arm shining through the thin fabric of his jacket where the long sleeve of his shirt had ridden up.

He was reminded of when he saw Maya use her powers for the first time, on their way to Ellie's before he'd gotten his stupid ass kidnapped by bandits. He recalled how her arm had lit up as she seized those rakks out of the sky with her mind like it was no big deal. Siren tattoos dimmed after they used their powers. So did Lawrence's markings. Clearly there was a connection here.

It was a shame he wasn't in contact with the people of Sanctuary anymore, he mused sadly as he turned the car on. This might have helped her with her research in some way.

He gripped the steering wheel and shut his eyes, trying to envision the power radiating off of his body. He thought about wrapping the car and all of its contents up in a protective purple-white sphere, just like he'd wrapped Sanctuary up all those weeks ago. The vehicle began to rumble and shake, and beside him he heard the women gasp, but he kept concentrating, focusing hard on keeping everyone safe and wrapped up in a protective cocoon.

"I hope you know what you're doing!" Shea shouted to him over the roar in his ears.

He really didn't. But everyone was depending on him, and he was _not_ about to let these people down. He thought about Lynchwood; he pictured the mountain it was perched on, the train station, Dukino's lair -

"Puppy! Puppy!" Meg's kid started screaming, reaching over Lawrence towards the driver’s window.

Lawrence's eyes flew open as he choked on a gasp, remembering Dukino. The giant skag was distressed by the sight of his friends wrapped up in a floating purple ball and was whimpering and nudging at it with his giant maw - the cause of the shaking, Lawrence realized. He had nearly forgotten about him.

"Dukino," he called through the open window. "You want the ball?"

The skag reared back, tilting his head.

"You want the ball, boy? You wanna play with the ball, buddy?"

Lawrence's cooing tone sent Dukino into a frenzy. He began to flail and stomp his massive paws in excitement as whines and barks escaped his slobbering maw.

"Get the ball, Dukino!" Shea called from the back of the technical, patting the roof of the truck for added emphasis. "Get it, boy, get the ball, get the ball!"

Her shouts combined with Lawrence's seemed to give Dukino all the permission he needed to lunge and snatch the sphere up in his giant mouth. It was goddamned frightening, being up close and personal with the inside of Dukino's mouth, but Lawrence was pretty sure Dukino wouldn't swallow them. Getting him to drop them, however, was going to be a challenge. But he'd worry about that when they were back at Lynchwood.

Which would be in three, two, one...

Lawrence thought about Dukino's little corner of Lynchwood, near the old mining machinery in the valley. With a flick of the thrumming power behind his ribs, he forced the bubble of protection around Dukino as well as the technical, then _pushed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	59. Chapter 59

Lawrence’s hair stood on and and his ears popped for a split second as they suddenly became weightless. A collective cry erupted from everyone in the car as they hit the ground with more force than they thought they would. Dukino let out a roar of fright as well as he tumbled, shaking the earth around them with his impact.

Gasping, Lawrence forced his eyes open and did a quick mental check of his body, only to remember that he was essentially indestructible.

"Everyone okay?" he rasped, turning to face the mothers.

They were pale and shaking and touching their swollen bellies, but didn't seem to be in any pain. Meg's children were both screaming out of fear and probably from having their ears pop the way they did, but she was able to sooth them soon enough. Hale groaned from the truck bed, cursing to himself, and Shea and Christophe were grumbling much the same.

"Did we make it?" Shea groused, poking her tight expression into the sun roof to meet Lawrence's own wary gaze.

"You tell me." He released a heavy sigh and slouched in his seat, exhausted and ridiculously relieved. He glanced out the window and found Dukino stumbling around in a daze, whimpering a little. "You okay, boy?"

The skag gave himself a massive shake, which seemed to perk him right up again. He rolled over onto his back, nearly crushing the truck, before he got up and darted down into the cave that was his home. Lawrence decided to take that as an affirmative.

"I've never been to this side of Lynchwood," Shea said, looking around. "Is this by the mines?"

"Yeah," Hale confirmed as he hopped off the truck. "We made it. Good job, Glow Boy."

"Thanks, dickweed." Lawrence peeled himself out of the car and let out a heavy exhale when his feet hit solid ground. A small jolt of dizziness swept over him, but he chased that feeling away with another small chunk of Eridium that his body greedily slurped up. A quick glance of his stock revealed that he was down to three medium-sized chunks and two pebble-sized pieces. He wondered if that would be enough if he needed to unleash hell on an entire bandit army.

"Maybe you should slow down with those," Hale muttered from a few feet away.

"Piss off, Mom," Lawrence said, shooting him a small smirk to indicate that he was only a little serious.

Hale rolled his eyes and went to snark back at him, but a series of gunshots cut him off. Instinctively they all crouched down, but it was clear that the firefighting was happening back towards town. If Lawrence listened hard, he could hear shouting as well.

The women and Christophe hunkered down in the truck while the trio stealthily made their way towards Lynchwood's train station. A familiar, haunting scent hit Lawrence's nostrils. Helios' halls near the Hub of Heroism smelled similar for weeks after he and the others mowed down all of the Lost Legion soldiers standing in their way. It smelled like blood and piss and suffering. He swore then he would never forget that stench, and apparently he hadn't. It still made his stomach do back-flips.

They reached the train platform and maneuvered themselves so that they could just see the rest of Main Street near the bank. The streets of Lynchwood had become a goddamned war zone - houses were aflame, some already burnt to the ground, and bodies from both sides were scattered everywhere they looked. There were more of Bogdan's men than citizens of Lynchwood, but that was only because there were more of them to kill. Lynchwood was seriously outnumbered and in deep, deep shit.

"Oh my god," Shea whimpered, sinking lower behind the platform. "We're too late - "

"There's still time," Hale snapped, drawing his shotgun close. "We just need a plan."

"I have to get to my sisters - "

"We need a _plan_!"

Lawrence released a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding this whole time. "First things first is that we find somewhere safe for the others to hide," he said. "Can't do shit until they're tucked away."

Neither of his companions argued that notion. "Doc Mack's," Hale blurted. "She's got this back room in her clinic where she stashes all of her stuff. Y'know, the ajate and real good pain killers and shit. She could hide the others there - assuming she's not dead."

"Let's find out."

It was actually pretty easy to sneak their way through Main Street. The right side of the tracks where the general goods store sat was actually deserted, save for the occasional puddle of blood or corpse, and with most of the fighting apparently taking place near the saloon on the opposite side of town, they were able to get to the doctor's office without trouble.

Getting _into_ the office was going to be a problem, Lawrence realized when Hale wiggled the doorknob and found the place, understandably, locked up tight. Hale cursed and hammered three times on the door, calling for the doc while keeping a careful eye on their surroundings. Lawrence and Shea did the same, worried that the noise might draw some of the fighting over in their direction.

A full minute passed and there was still no answer. Hale grew more frantic. "Doc! C’mon, let us in!" When still there came no answer, he heaved a massive sigh that rocked his shoulders. "Mom," he snapped flatly at the door in front of his angry gaze. "It's me. Let me in, please - "

Lawrence and Shea exchanged wide-eyed glances, but before they could heckle the younger man, the door to the office swung open, revealing a petite, dark-haired woman in a lab coat that had probably at one point been white and pristine but now hung in ragged, stained tatters from her shoulders.

"Get in here!" Doc Mack hissed, yanking her son in by the front of his tank top. She nearly slammed the door on Shea and Lawrence, but Hale insisted that they be let in as well. She bolted the door behind them and shoved a chair up against it before whirling around to face her son. "Where the hell have you been, Hale? Do you know what's happening out there? I lost contact with Winger's office hours ago and all I've been hearing on the street is gunfire! Is it a vault hunter?"

"No." Hale explained what was happening as quickly as possible, with heavy emphasis on the fact that they had literal precious cargo waiting for a safe place to hide back near the mines. "You've still got that secret room in the back, right?”

"Well, it's not a secret _anymore_ ," Doc Mack snarked, rolling her eyes. "Fine. If you can get them here in one piece, I'll give them sanctuary."

That was, thankfully, about as easy as it sounded, even with two infants to worry about blowing their cover. Meg's children remained deathly quiet as they all hurried back to Doc Mack's. They were young, but still able to sense just how dire the whole situation was.

The doctor's icy expression thawed at the sight of the women and their children. "Come on in," she said kindly, stepping aside. "Head to the back room there, by the bookshelf. Mind the step. Help yourself to whatever food and water you need."

"Thank you," Paz whispered as they shuffled by. They turned their grateful glances towards Shea, Hale, Christophe and Lawrence as well before disappearing into the not-so-secret room.

"You're staying here, too," Shea told Christophe, nudging him towards the room. "You're in no condition to fight in a war."

The man frowned. "I can still hold a gun," he pointed out, wiggling the fingers on his remaining hand.

"Good, you can protect the others if any assholes come knocking."

"I know how these guys work, Shea. At least let me offer advice."

She folded her arms across her chest. "We're all ears."

"Bogdan's conditioned his men to rely on him," Christophe explained. "Get to him, you get to his boys. But he has a _lot_ of boys, and he's probably already surrounded himself with them and the other women as living shields."

Shea snorted. "Tell us something we don't know."

Christophe scowled at her. "You're still a pain in the ass," he grumbled.

"I'm Haema's big sister. It's my job to heckle you."

"You say he's conditioned his men to obey him," Lawrence cut in, peering hard at the other man. "What happened with you?"

The man shrugged. "People do crazy things when they're in love," he said, offering him a bashful, toothy grin.

Yeah, they sure did. Lawrence gingerly returned the grin, if only to ward off thoughts of his old life in Sanctuary and all the could've-beens.

"We still need a plan," Shea pointed out bluntly, smothering what little mirth had been allowed to blossom. She looked at Lawrence. "You used to be a vault hunter. Can't you just unleash vault-hunter-hell and murder all of them for us?"

He could, but their weapons and ammo were limited, he pointed out, and his doubles did run on energy, of which they had little left thanks to that bullshit with Sutton earlier.

"Then eat more minerals or whatever and wipe them out with your powers!" Shea snapped, losing her temper. "We're wasting time trying to think of some elaborate scheme when there's a solution right here!"

Lawrence shook his head. "I don't know if I'll be able to control who I wipe out if I try that. No offence, but a lot of Bogdan's dudes look like Lynchwood dudes."

"But my sisters don't!"

"I'm not just trying to save them, Shea," he snapped. "I know you're scared - I am, too - but we can't just fling ourselves into this! We need a plan!"

"Your plan," Christophe began evenly, "is to find Bogdan and kill him by any means necessary. It'll disband his troops and make them easier to pick off." He looked at Shea, his expression softening only slightly. "He values your sisters as his property. He won't hurt them - "

"Yes," Shea cut in, fixing him with a watery stare, "he will. And it'll hurt even worse because we all thought we were safe and finally free."

Christophe shut his mouth and averted his gaze, his dark-skinned face burning with shame.

"Most of the fighting is happening in Gunslinger's Corner," Doc Mack offered up once the silence became too crippling. "And since that's where the Sisters and Eg were staying, I'm assuming that Bogdan might be in the same area. Or is that too farfetched?"

"Sounds logical," Lawrence agreed. "We just need to get a bird's eye view and scope the place out before moving in."

"I know where we can go to do that," Hale said, jerking his head. "It's back by the mines. We can climb to the top of the canyon and use Shea's rifle to check it out."

"Then you better get a move on before that bastard decides to torch the rest of the town," Doc Mack barked, ushering them towards the door. "Be careful. I only have so much medicine to hand out, and - Hale."

The man faltered in the doorway as he turned to face his mother.

The doctor hesitated a second before she bent him over and drew him into a hug. "Be careful, for fuck's sake," she hissed into his ear. "And kick that dirtbag's ass a few times for me, you hear? I should send him a bill for how much med shit I'm gonna be using on patching all the bastards his boys roughed up."

Hale chuckled as he pulled away. "There might not be much left for you to bill once Shea's done with him," he warned.

"That's fine. I'll take seeing his head on a pike as payment enough."

"Oh, you've got my word on that," Shea promised.

~

Hale led them the opposite direction of Lynchwood's train station, towards the elevator near the giant stationary digging machine that still loomed over the area like some sort of torture device. The elevator dragged them slowly to the top, groaning under their combined weight. Lawrence stared at the wall, determined not to face the side of the elevator that didn't even have a railing to keep them from toppling dozens of feet to the ground below.

"I was told Doc Mack used to work for Hyperion when they had control over the mines," he blurted, sending Hale a sideways glance.

Hale shrugged. "Dad was a worker in the mines. Died a few years ago." He blinked at Lawrence. "You gonna kill me now? I know you got beef with Hyperion _and_ bandits. I’m the best of both worlds."

Lawrence huffed out a laugh. "I worked for Hyperion once, too. And now I might as well call myself at least part bandit, don't you think?"

Hale grunted. "What makes someone a bandit anyways? Living in groups and attacking anyone that threatens your turf?"

"I guess."

"Isn't that everyone down here, though? You grow up with one word branded into your mind: survive. If you make it through childhood, you form groups, you stake your claim on safe spots with water and shelter and maybe even food. We do it here. Bogdan does it at his place. Those snobs in Sanctuary do it, too."

Lawrence saw that, certainly. He just wished there was be another safer way for people to exist down here. Jack had the wrong idea by sweeping the planet clean of everyone and starting over. They didn't need to be exterminated; they needed help! Multiple forms of it.

The elevator dumped them in Rat territory, which they were thankfully able to traverse without alerting any of them to their presence. They needed all of the ammo they could get, especially Shea.

"If you tell me my job is going to be to hang back and snipe, I'm going to shoot your goddamn balls off," she hissed as soon as they were in the clear and army-crawling their way towards the edge of the cliff.

Lawrence frowned at her. "You're the best shot out of all of us, Shea. If you get the chance to take out Bogdan, you better fucking do it."

"I want to rip his throat out, not end him in one shot."

"Then aim for his legs."

They reached the edge of the mountain and peered over the edge towards Gunslinger's Corner. It was a sheer drop between here and there, Lawrence learned abruptly as he accidentally looked down.

"Shit," he wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut as he was briefly overwhelmed by vertigo. Why the hell couldn't his powers take care of that little issue, too?

"If you're gonna puke, do it on Hale," Shea snapped, shoving him in the other man's direction to make room for her sniper rifle. She set it up in a matter of seconds and peered through the scope, adjusting it as she went.

"Do you see him anywhere?" Hale asked after a moment of tense silence.

"Yes." Shea's voice wavered only slightly. "He's near Gunslinger's Corner, like the doctor said. God, his men are everywhere, but I think the shooting's stopped for now. They're all just standing around."

Lawrence squinted through the layer of dust that always seemed to be hanging in the air around the mountain and lamented the fact that he left the binoculars in the car. He could see the houses fine, but the ones on the edge were blocking a lot of the action on the street from their view. The people looked like ants from this far away, and there was no chance in hell he'd be able to hear whatever righteous bullshit Bogdan was spouting.

Shea suddenly jerked back with a gasp. "He's going to hang Deputy Winger."

" _What_?" both Hale and Lawrence exclaimed.

"He's got him up on a platform in front of his office with a noose around his neck, and I think his hands are tied - we gotta do something," Shea babbled, gripping her rifle. "He's hurt and bleeding - "

"Can you get a shot on Bogdan?" Hale asked.

"No," she said. She sucked in a watery breath. "He's using my mother as a shield."

Lawrence swore viciously and got to his feet. He turned away from the others and began to disrobe. "I'm gonna be a distraction," he said, shrugging out of his jacket and ripping his hoodie over his head. "Hale, you're gonna sneak up to the upper level of town and check on the women and kids. See if you can start getting them back towards Doc Mack's. Shea, you're gonna gut me, but I need you looking through that scope."

She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept going as he kicked off his boots. "I need you to watch Hale's back when he starts climbing. And as soon as you get a chance, you need to disable Bogdan."

Shea gritted her teeth, but forced herself to nod in irritated assent. Once down to his pants, Lawrence handed her his watch.

"And if all else fails, you grab Dukino and lead him towards a lovely buffet," he added. "Red and Blue will help you out if you need to get into the fray. Let's hope it won't come to that."

"I kind of hope it does," Hale mused, no doubt entertaining the thought of Dukino gobbling up Bogdan's men.

Shea sent him a glare, but accepted the watch and put it on her thin wrist where it hung limply against her skin. Lawrence quickly taught her the code and showed her how to input it to summon his doubles.

As soon as Red and Blue saw that their boss wasn't wearing the watch, they whirled on him, each wearing their own horrified, betrayed looks.

"No, no, no!" Blue began yelling, lifting his hands like a child begging to be picked up.

"It's not what it looks like," Lawrence assured them gently, reaching out to caress the watch. While Shea sent him a mildly disturbed look, both doubles flickered and visibly calmed just in time for Lawrence to explain what was happening.

"I promised I'd never leave you guys behind and I'm not breaking that promise," he assured them. "I just need you to watch Shea's back for a few minutes, okay? Do whatever she says. Unless it's, like, to kill me or something. Don't do that."

While his doubles saluted and disappeared to save their energy, Shea rolled her eyes. "And what kind of distraction are you planning? Getting naked and running through the streets like a madman?"

"Not a madman." Lawrence turned away again to shuffle out of his pants. Now wasn't the time to be self-conscious, but he was still mindful of how his body might upset Shea, so he kept his back turned to them. "Hand me the last of the Eridium in my jacket, will you, Hale?"

Shea openly fumed. "I'm not going to have a meltdown at the sight of your penis," she snapped.

" _I_ might," Hale muttered, earning a slap on the back of his leg from Shea. "Ow."

"I dunno how much this guy believes in terms of religion or whatever," Lawrence began as he took the chunks of Eridium from Hale and rolled them around in his hand. "But by the end of today he's gonna be a believer in something."

"Hell," Shea whispered. "Because if there is one, that's where he's going."

"Damn straight." Lawrence looked over his shoulder and offered her a confident grin.

He clenched his fingers around the cluster of minerals and drew them into his body. They dissolved with a little bit of reluctance, no doubt because he was already pretty stuffed.

Normally whenever he powered up, the sensation of having pure energy surging through his veins made him light-headed with pleasure. This time, he felt as though he was walking the line between pleasure and pain; starbursts flickered behind his eyelids and his body tingled with what felt like little static shocks all over, but it passed soon enough, leaving him butt naked in the middle of a desert town feeling as though he was about to float out of his fleshy body.

"How do I look?" he asked, only it sounded strange to him - like he was talking loudly in an empty hall. It sounded even worse to Hale and Shea, if their jerky reactions were any indication.

"Like a god," Hale choked out. It was clear both of them were trying to keep their cool, but they couldn't stop staring at him through wide eyes.

Lawrence looked down at himself and noted several things at once: the spirals that had skated up his arms and forehead had spread to the rest of his body thanks to the more-than-average dose of Eridium. The skin not covered in these light lines still glowed a light shade of purple from the mineral in his blood. He also noted, much to his terror, that he was hovering a few inches off the sand; he instantly flailed and let out a very un-godlike squeal as he attempted to touch down, only to fall flat on his face in front of the others, his bare ass presented to the rest of the world.

"Bravo," Shea said dryly. "They'll believe you for sure."

"Shut up," Lawrence spat around the sand in his mouth. Something white caught his eye from over his shoulder; when he cautiously turned to see what the hell was happening with his body now, he nearly fainted at the sight of transparent, wisp-like things stemming out of his shoulder blades, like wings of all things. They were wings, he thought, delirious. Like Lilith with her powers when she really tapped into them, only less defined.

"Oh god, I hope this shit fades," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. But as freaked out as he was, all he had to do was think of the children being held hostage, of Winger about to be strangled to death, and he was sound of mind again. He had a job to do.

"Remember the plan," he said, rising to his feet. He felt his toes leave the ground, but he ignored it. "You both have enough ammo?"

Hale nodded and cocked his shotgun. Shea was already moving back into position by her rifle.

"Don't forget your comms," Lawrence added. "Shea, we're going to need you as our eye in the sky."

"I'm on it," she said, fitting it into her ear. She tapped it with her nail. "Testing, testing."

The comm in Lawrence's ear crackled with her tinny voice, and Hale gave a thumbs up as his spat out Shea's voice as well.

"Cool. Stick with me for the time being. Hale, when you start making your way to the top, let us know so Shea can turn her attention to you."

Hale darted back the way they came, and Lawrence turned to face Gunslinger's Corner. With a simple thought, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note to clear up any potential confusion: Bogdan speaks in third person. He's also a piece of shit.

The crowd stopped right at the mouth of the tunnel that cut through the mountain, so Lawrence willed himself to land over there. He barely felt the pull this time; he blinked, and suddenly he was standing in the middle of the tunnel. Bogdan’s angry voice could be heard even from there; he was in the middle of preaching to the unlucky folk of Lynchwood why they were about to watch their beloved deputy die, and why they would follow shortly afterward.

As Lawrence inched his way closer, one of the many bodies slumped against the wall of the tunnel let out a groan. Lawrence recognized the tattered, bloodied mask clinging to his face and felt his heart jump into his throat.

"Larry," he murmured, moving to kneel down in front of the crippled man. "Are you all right?"

At the sight of him, Larry scrambled back, posture rigid and fearful. "Please have mercy on me, goddess," he babbled. He paused, tilted his head a little, and amended, "God."

Lawrence didn't have time to explain. "Gather everyone you can and get to safety by the train tracks," he said soothingly.

"You're going to take us to the great beyond?"

"I'm here to save you, dude." He rose to his feet, patting the man reassuringly on his head and also healing his physical wounds with a mere thought. "It'll all be over soon."

He finally made his way out of the tunnel and back into the harsh sunlight, where he could finally catch a glimpse of Bogdan in all his angry glory. The warmonger was a tall, muscular man, with a mane of wild black hair that descended to his lower back. He wore no shirt to cover his scarred, tattooed torso, just leather straps that criss-crossed over the center of his chest and around to his back. He looked like he could break a man in half with his bare hands, but in case that wasn't enough: green, brown and black war paint was drawn across his narrowed eyes, his strong jaw, and crooked, pug-like nose, making him look even more intimidating. If Lawrence hadn't known who this guy was, he probably would have been cowering in fear alongside the rest of Lynchwood's inhabitants.

Apparently he'd arrived just in time. Bogdan had just finished screaming about his property or some such and was in the process of shoving Winger off the side of the platform. The remaining residents in the crowd, along with Imogen, who was still being used as Bogdan’s personal shield, let out screams of terror and protest.

Lawrence extended his hand just as Winger's feet dropped out from under him. The wide-eyed look on the deputy's face only grew worse when he froze in mid-air, surrounded by a warm purple glow that set the crowd off into an uproar of confusion and fright.

Lawrence set Winger down onto the ground next to the platform. The noose fell in tattered strings from his neck, as did the rope binding the sheriff's arms behind his back - burnt away by a thought from Lawrence's mind. Winger touched the strands, in shock, before he thought to lift his head and meet Lawrence's gaze through the crowd.

The men and women around him parted so fast that a few unfortunate people in the back got trampled slightly. All eyes were on Lawrence as he hovered his way towards the warmonger and his prisoners.

"I am the god of this mountain," he boomed so loudly that the people closest to him flinched and dropped their guns in favor of slapping their hands over their ears. Some of them even fell to their knees, trembling. "I protect this town, these people," Lawrence continued as he slowly began to move forward, the tips of his toes dragging through the dusty street.

Bogdan sneered, his scar giving him the appearance of a wild animal peeling back its lips in a snarl. "Not doing such a great job, are ya?" he said. "What took ya so long, god? Bogdan's only been slaughtering your people and burning half your mountain down for a day and a half."

For the moment, Lawrence ignored Bogdan in favor of kneeling down beside Deputy Winger. He touched a finger to the man's sweaty brow, healing his wounds so quickly that it actually took the deputy a second to realize it with a shuddering breath and a quick glance down at his torso.

The crowd's reaction was one of pure amazement, if the not-quite-whispers coming from behind Lawrence were any indication. He was winning them over, it seemed.

When Lawrence finally turned to face Bogdan, however, he found the warmonger looking more angry than impressed or frightened like the rest of his men. "You think you can trick Bogdan," he said with a deep, angry chuckle. "Bogdan doesn't believe in gods. And what's a god to a non-believer?"

"A giant pain in the ass, if nothing else," Lawrence supplied. "Let that woman go and I'll make you a believer."

"Can't blow Bogdan away without harming her, is it?"

"I'd much rather fight you head-on, but apparently you're the kind of monster who uses people as a living shield."

"She is Bogdan's to do with as he pleases." Bogdan tilted his head, spilling his mane down his shoulder.

Talking didn't seem to be working, Lawrence noted, so he switched his method again. He lifted his arms and made a grand show of powering up, using the anger and rage he felt towards this asshole to really unleash his full potential. His wings flared like brilliant whips and forced people and debris alike to move away from him as his body lifted a few more inches skyward. He tried not to focus on how badly his stomach was doing flips at the thought of not having his feet on solid ground; instead, he turned his attention to the men around him.

Screaming erupted from Bogdan's men as their guns began to melt in their hands. If the ammo inside them didn't explode, taking hands and other body parts out with them, the guns fused to the men's palms, burning them straight to the bone. They began to freak out; some actually bolted for the tunnel behind them in a fit of pained fright, while others dropped into writhing heaps on the ground.

Bogdan looked remarkably calm for someone whose army was being reduced to a useless pile of screaming individuals. If anything, he just looked irritated, like someone had spilled his coffee all over his desk.

"Do you expect Bogdan to give in now?" he asked flatly, turning back to Lawrence.

"You have no army," Lawrence snapped, feeling his wings flare with anger. "Sutton is dead, as are the rest of the men you stationed at The Maw. It’s over. Let the woman go."

The revelation of his son's death didn't even make the man bat an eye. "These people took some things of Bogdan's. They stole from him, and now he wants his property back. Bogdan's actions are justified - "

A wave of heat blasted off of Lawrence. "Not when those 'things' are _people_!" he roared, shattering windows and the eardrums of those nearby. It took every last ounce of self-control not to hurl himself at this terrible human being and tear his head clean off. Imogen, wide-eyed but otherwise remaining calm in Bogdan's grasp, locked gazes with him, forcing him to calm down.

"Nothing you're saying is going to convince him to let my mother go," Shea hissed into his earpiece. She sounded as if she was running. "And I can't take a shot so long as he's holding her hostage. I'm moving to Plan B."

Lawrence knew she was right. Nothing he said or did seemed to faze this prick. "Plan B it is, then," he said mere seconds before something huge slammed into his spine and exploded, briefly knocking him out of his mind.

He came to seconds later, but the damage had been done, leaving him in a crumpled heap by Winger, smoking and hardly able to move. He was able to shoot a glance over his burning shoulder at the cause of his pain: Otto, Shea's teenage boy, looking beyond terrified as he dropped a rocket launcher into the sand at his feet.

"Good lad," Bogdan cooed to him. His words did little to comfort the boy, if his trembling stance was any indication.

"Lawrence," Winger rasped from above him. He looked utterly horrified. "Oh, god, heal yerself or somethin', boy, hurry!"

"Heal?" Lawrence tried to say, only to realize that not only was his jaw broken, there was a pretty substantial hole blown clean through his chest. He could feel the flesh on his back slowly beginning to heal up from being burnt almost down to the muscle. Oh, and his legs were gone - just smoking stumps from the knees down. The sight of them, or what was left of them, made Lawrence lightheaded with complete and utter disgust and shock.

Bogdan started to approach them as Lawrence's body continued to heal itself. Lawrence cursed himself for putting on a show when he should've just outright attacked this bastard; he wasn't sure if he had enough of the mineral left in his blood to patch himself up, never mind regrow his limbs.

Winger rose to his feet and planted himself between Bogdan and Lawrence, fists raised for a fight. "Back off - " he snarled, only to get backhanded off to the side like the man was nothing more than an annoying little bug in Bogdan's face. The deputy's head slammed into the edge of the platform with a sickening crack, and he crumpled off to the side, wheezing.

"Winger," Imogen choked out, struggling for the first time in Bogdan's grip. He took notice of this and sneered at her as he increased his choke hold, making her gasp for an entirely different reason.

Lawrence willed his body to heal faster, but the most it could do for him before Bogdan snatched him up with his free hand was regrow his liquefied organs. His legs remained useless stumps that dangled as Bogdan hefted him into the air by his neck.

"Shea," he choked out, sucking in a rapid gasp. He clawed at Bogdan's arm, but it was like a tree trunk - thick and so scarred that he probably didn't even feel Lawrence's pathetic attempts to free himself.

There came no reply from the woman, but that was probably because his earpiece had melted in the heat of the rocket blast.

Bogdan sneered at him, revealing a mouth full of foul, yellowed teeth. "A god taken out by a rocket launcher," he mused. "So much for that. Otto, c'mere and finish this fake prick off."

As Bogdan slammed Lawrence into the ground, the kid in question scurried forward and fumbled with the revolver Bogdan tossed him with his free hand. He pointed at Lawrence and said, "Do it. Consider it your initiation into the Bog Boys."

Otto bit his lip and lifted the revolver. It seemed so large in his hands, even if Otto was already pretty filled out for a fourteen-year-old.

"Don't," Lawrence choked out. "You're better than this, Otto. Think of your mother - how she would feel if you stooped to this asshole's level - "

"He's my grandpa," Otto snapped, voice hoarse despite not having used it the whole time. For a second he was angry, but it faded just as quickly when his gaze snapped back to the gun in his trembling hands.

Lawrence sucked in a wet breath as he peered up at the kid. "And look at what he's trying to make you do."

His words were cut short when Bogdan placed his foot on his back, forcing him to lie flat in the dirt. He could scarcely breathe let alone talk, but he kept his desperate gaze on Otto, hoping to, at the very least, buy him enough time to fully heal. His internal injuries were nearly repaired, but his legs were taking far longer. Apparently regrowing limbs not only hurt, it was goddamned difficult, even with the Eridium in his veins working to rebuild the bones and muscles that had been obliterated.

Bogdan looked at Otto and tilted his head down at Lawrence - a silent order to get on with it. The kid gritted his teeth and lifted the revolver once more, pointing it at Lawrence's head.

"Otto," Imogen said suddenly, calmly. "Look at me, baby."

The sound of his grandmother's voice was enough to wrench the little boy within Otto back to the surface. He met the older woman's gaze, his own was rapidly deteriorating into one that adequately relayed just how frightened he was. "Nana," he whimpered.

This was a boy torn between two worlds - the one that his disgusting excuse for a grandfather had tried to bestow on him at an early age, and the one his mother and aunts and grandmother had given him by risking their lives. The turmoil was clear in his expression as he regarded Imogen through wide, watery eyes.

Bogdan growled, fed up with all the delays. He gave Imogen a violent shake and flexed his arm until she was gasping for breath. "Shut up, woman," he snarled. "Let Bogdan's grandson become a man."

Something snapped inside Otto as he turned the gun on Bogdan, leveling it with the man's thigh. "Don't hurt her!" he snapped.

"Stupid boy - you cannot hurt things."

"Nana isn't a thing!" Otto shrieked, firing the gun.

The noise made everyone jump - Bogdan especially as a bullet from his own gun pierced his upper thigh. He snarled like a wild animal, more so out of anger than pain, and backhanded Otto so hard that his head snapped almost completely around. The boy was dead before he hit the ground, before Lawrence could heal him, as death stole him away from a life he barely knew.

Chaos erupted around Lawrence, but not from Otto's untimely death or Bogdan's quick retreat back towards the elevator that led to the Sisters' portion of town. The ground had been shaking before Otto shot Bogdan - Lawrence had felt it acutely from his spot on the ground - but now it was pronounced enough for the whole town to feel it. Windows rattled, people lost their footing, and pieces of the mountain began to tumble as a bellowing roar rang out.

"The hell is that?" Winger rasped as he gingerly pushed himself into a sitting position.

Lawrence licked his lips. "Plan B."

Dukino charged up the road, roaring even as he opened his great maw and swallowed Bogdan's few remaining men whole. He snapped his jaw hard enough to break grown men in two by the half dozen, silencing their terrified shrieks as quickly as they'd started. A furious Shea rode upon the skag’s back, picking off the stragglers with deadly rapid-fire hits of her rifle. Lawrence could see flickers of orange and blue behind her, could smell the burning flesh, and knew she would be fine on her own.

He grabbed Otto's body, grabbed Winger's, and flung himself to Eg's house, which was blessedly, alarmingly, empty. Already uncoordinated, he slammed into the wall, nearly taking out the table of seeds and plants Eg had set up. Winger landed on his ass with a half-conscious grunt of pain while Otto crumpled close to the bed.

 _Eridium, Eridium, Eridium_ , Lawrence's mind snarled, forcing him to move. His legs were nearly reformed - they were hideous at the moment, just lumps that were vaguely feet-shaped - but he didn't want to risk walking on them yet and instead crawled frantically towards the small box Lawrence could see tucked away beneath Eg's bed.

"For emergencies," the kid had told him with a smile. "Like last time." Last time meaning the sandstorm that had wiped Lawrence out in terms of power.

Facing similar circumstances now, Lawrence found himself eternally grateful to the guy as he tore the lid off the box and plunged his hands into the shards of Eridium waiting for him within. Instantly he felt true strength return to his limbs, re-igniting the swirls that danced across his body. It wasn't enough to make his wings reappear, but that was fine. He had enough power roaring through his veins to get the job done now.

He looked at Otto's corpse and felt his heart sink. The kid hadn't deserved to die like that, but at least he'd gotten to experience a brief time freedom with the Sisters in Lynchwood before Bogdan snatched it all away again.

Lawrence reached out with a shaking hand, willing to attempt what was likely impossible even with his kind of power, only to be stopped by Winger's larger hand landing on his wrist.

The deputy looked awful with a large trickle of blood making its way down his face, but head wounds tended to bleed excessively no matter how superficial the problem was. His mouth was a grim line as he shook his head. He didn't need to speak to get his point across.

Lawrence sucked in a heavy breath and got to his feet. He was still naked, he noted suddenly, and wordlessly accepted Winger's knee-length coat when the man offered it to him. In exchange, Lawrence touched his hand to the back of Winger’s head, healing him in the blink of an eye.

"Fight ain't over yet," Winger rasped through a sigh of relief. "Bogdan was headed this way. Earlier I told the Sisters to lock themselves in their house, but that bastard broke in to get Imogen."

Lawrence nodded. "You staying or fighting?" he asked, spying something clutched in Otto's fist. The revolver he was going to use to kill him with, Lawrence realized, kneeling down to gently pry it from the kid's fingers.

Winger snorted. "The hell you take me for? Gimme that - I'll cover you."

Lawrence gladly passed him the revolver. Judging by the awful sounds coming from outside - gunfire on top of Dukino's distant roars and bellows - Bogdan might have a few of his men stationed on this level of Gunslinger's Corner just in case. Hale was out there somewhere, perhaps already engaging the Bog Boys or even Bogdan himself.

"Thanks for coming back," Winger said suddenly as they made for the door. "Even if it's just 'cos Eg owes ya his ID drive or whatever."

Now it was Lawrence's turn to crack a grin despite the desperate situation. "The hell you take me for?"

He kicked down the door and stepped into the midday Pandoran sun, only to be greeted with a shotgun blast to the face.

"Fuckin' Christ, Hale!" Deputy Winger bellowed from behind Lawrence. His wide, angry eyes were locked onto the bullets that would have pierced the two of them if Lawrence hadn't extended a hand a split second sooner and forced them to freeze in mid-air. "Ya need some serious trigger discipline, boy, I swear to god!"

"I second that," Lawrence groused, lowering his hand and releasing his hold on the shotgun rounds, sending them clattering harmlessly to the ground by his feet.

The teenager under scrutiny lowered his weapon and straightened up. Lawrence regretted yelling at him; the dude looked beyond shaken, there was blood and dirt smeared down his front, and a large chunk of his shoulder was missing thanks to what had probably been a bullet.

"Sorry," he grunted, ever a man of few words. "Thought you were a Bog Boy."

"Have you been fighting a lot of them up here?" Lawrence asked, only to get his answer in the form of a shower of bullets from a pair of green-clad men stationed by the fire pit Imogen and her daughters used for celebration not too many nights ago.

The trio dove behind a car chassis as another wave of bullets sailed by overhead. Winger immediately started returning fire, nicking one of the bastards in the leg. Hale's shotgun was mostly useless at this distance, plus, as he quickly revealed, he was running low on ammo. It didn't matter, as Winger was able to take out the two with minimal effort, but that left him with an empty gun.

"I'm dry," Winger said reluctantly as they slowly got back to their feet. "I'm gonna look 'round for some more ammo. Ya stop that bastard if ya get the chance."

With that order, Winger darted off towards the far side of the area, trying to avoid as much of the conflict as possible. The Sisters' house was closer to the elevator, so that area was bound to be the most guarded - especially if Bogdan had made it back there in one piece.

"Have you seen their house yet?" Lawrence asked Hale as they began to creep towards the building in question.

Hale grunted out a negative. "Just got up here a few minutes ago. Had to climb up the mountain."

That explained his cut hands and the dirt mixing with the dark-red splatters against his white tank top. Lawrence nodded and gestured to him to keep moving.

The closer they got, the more they realized that the house was more or less wide open for them to storm. The only sounds now came from Dukino, though his yowling had become quieter as he ran out of Bog Boys to gobble up.

"Something's wrong," Hale hissed as they came around the corner.

Sure enough, the Sisters, including Imogen, who looked dazed yet just as frantic as her daughters, were clustered outside their home taking turns banging on the door and screaming at it to be let in - exactly the opposite of what Lawrence feared they might be doing. Bogdan was nowhere to be found, and neither were the Sisters' children or, to his growing horror, Eg. Suddenly the Sisters' desperation to get inside the house made perfect sense.

Clover saw them approaching first and whirled on them, eyes wild with fear. "He took Eg! Just now, he - he dragged him into the house and we can't get to him...!" she shrieked, pointing frantically at the door.

Bogdan's last stand, Lawrence realized grimly. He wasn't about to go down without a fight.

"Your children?" he asked the women.

"Upstairs," Grith reported, nodding her head towards the house. The normally gruff-looking woman was now gaunt with terror. "They're safe - locked away from him for now, but if he starts shooting in there or anything - "

Lawrence heard enough. He told the women to stand back, then blasted the door to the house clean off its hinges. His fear and anger manifested itself in the degree of power he unleashed; instead of simply knocking the door flat, he vaporized the damn thing.

Mad with rage and the desire to get to Eg, Hale shoved Lawrence out of the way to get through the door. Lawrence's exclamations fell on deaf ears as the kid charged in, and a split second later the sound of a gun going off made Lawrence's blood run cold.

He hurled himself into the room, fully expecting the worst. Bogdan had Eg by his hair and was already swinging him around as a new shield now that he'd ditched his heavier one. The boy was clearly hysterical, if his wide, unseeing eyes were any indication, but at least he was in one piece. The same could not be said for Hale, who now sat in a bleeding heap on the floor, hands over his gut as blood sluggishly trickled from the bullet wound there.

"Don't kill him!" Eg was screaming as he thrashed. "Please, please don't - "

Eg cried out as Bogdan increased his grip on his hair. "You like this boy?" he asked, snickering. "Maybe Bogdan will bring him back with us and make you fuck him when Bogdan is bored."

Hale outright snarled at the bastard while Eg sobbed and sagged against him in defeat. "Just please don't kill him," he whispered.

Lawrence took another step forward, intending to at least heal Hale before he bled out, only to get rewarded with a bullet in his ribs, then another in his neck. He fell onto his ass, more stunned than anything as blood briefly burbled from the wounds, while Eg let out another scream and started thrashing anew.

Fed up, Bogdan threw him to the ground and crawled on top of him. Eg slapped and kicked but Bogdan easily overpowered him, kneeling between his legs and pinning him down by his shoulders. He seemed to enjoy the struggle, enough so that he didn't notice Eg's hand moving from his chest towards his own leg. His tunic slipped, and Lawrence saw a flash of silver beneath the fabric.

"You're different," Bogdan mused, oblivious to Eg's plan. "You were a mouse back in Bogdan's camp, only making a noise when in pain, never fighting back even when Bogdan pushed you to your limit. Now look at you! Bogdan would be proud, but he's mostly annoyed."

Eg's expression twisted from fear to anger in the blink of an eye. "You broke me," he admitted, seething. "But I've healed. I'm stronger. And I am not afraid of you anymore."

He brought his arm up, hand grasping the handle of Hale’s knife that had been concealed beneath his tunic, and buried the blade neatly in the side of Bogdan's neck. The man let out a startled noise that dissolved into gurgling as he pitched to the side, allowing Eg to scramble out from underneath him. He looked eager to watch his tormentor bleed, but tore himself away to collapse at Hale's side instead, babbling words of comfort as Hale pawed at his thighs, gasping for air.

It was then Lawrence finally moved, crouching down by the young men and extending a healing hand to Hale's stomach, sealing the wound and giving the guy his strength back. Eg threw his arms around his neck the moment he was better, shuddering.

Bogdan, meanwhile, was still alive and slouched over on his knees as he wordlessly clawed at the knife running through his throat. His wide, bulging eyes landed on the other doorway where the Seven Sisters had gathered, drawn in by the awful gurgling noises coming from Bogdan.

Silver glinted in the women's hands - their own blades and sharp objects. They began to move soundlessly, positioning themselves in a circle around the wheezing man, like lionesses about to strike. If Bogdan wanted to say anything, all that came out were pained grunts from between his clenched teeth.

Shea, trembling with rage, struck him first. She made sure he saw her coming, saw how the arm he attempted to raise to fend her off couldn't stop her from sinking her blade between his ribs. He barely had time to register that pain before Clover was sinking her own weapon into his shoulder. Haema brought a hatchet down on his leg, splintering the bone and finally making the man let out a scream. His cries grew louder and worse as Grith and Penelope struck him, drawing more blood out of his dying body. Even Farren lashed out against the man who harmed her family, against the man who forced her mother to bear her and her sisters. She was the only one of the Sisters whose hand trembled when she withdrew her knife from Bogdan's spine, but her expression remained as intense as theirs.

As Bogdan collapsed onto his side gasping his final breaths, Imogen finally came forward. She bent over him. "For the ones you took from us," she said simply. She ripped Eg's knife from his throat, allowing the wound to blossom with a torrent of blood that quickly fanned out on the floor around them.

Bogdan gurgled one last time before his eyes rolled skyward. His body stopped twitching, and a heavy silence filled the room.

It didn't last for long; Imogen got to work severing Bogdan's ugly mug from his body, spilling more blood all over the floor as well as herself. Nobody minded the mess. It was tangible proof of the fact that, finally, they were well and truly free.

This realization seemed to hit all the women at once. They broke down in each other's arms, whimpering and sniffling softly as their mother finished decapitating their captor. Eg was weeping with them as he rocked back and forth in Hale's strong arms.

"It's okay now," Hale was whispering to the smaller man. "He can't hurt you anymore. You're free."

"Free," Eg blurted. "Free."

The word spread to the Sisters, who repeated it softly to themselves as their tears dried and their sobs faded away with their fear.

Eventually Imogen finished up and moved outside, her daughters following. Lawrence urged Hale and Eg up to do the same, and they all made their way back into the heat of the day to present the rest of Lynchwood with all the proof they needed of Bogdan's demise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	61. Chapter 61

They lost half the town when it came to residents. Bodies from both sides lined the streets for days after the battle, leaving a residual smell of death that would cling to the mountain for a long time. Dukino did what he could in terms of removing corpses, but even the giant skag's stomach wasn't bottomless. Lawrence used his powers and even summoned Red to help burn the piles of bodies that were just too heavy to cart away.

There was a plus side to some of this. Hale and Eg hauled off some of the bodies that belonged to their folk to be used as mulch for the garden, including Otto's. It was better than being burned or dumped in some cavern to waste away.

"They'll help the rest of us survive," Eg said, smiling sadly.

As promised, Bogdan's head was mounted on a pike by the train station for all to see, and also as a warning to those thinking that they could just stroll into town and take whatever they pleased. It wouldn't deter any vault hunters, Lawrence knew, but he had a plan for that as well.

"Get in contact with Sanctuary," he advised Winger. "Tell them you want to be left in peace."

The deputy chuckled. Though Lawrence had healed his physical wounds, it was clear from the man's pale face and eye-bags that he was still suffering over what had happened. "Ya make it sound so easy. They won't let us be unless we pay ‘em."

"So pay them. Tell them you have access to fruits and vegetables and are willing to part with some of them in exchange for being left alone."

With the population less than half of what it once was, they had more food to spare. Winger grunted, not at all happy with the idea, but Lawrence knew he would give in sooner or later. He had let this town down once; it wouldn't happen again.

In the middle of clean-up, Penelope gave birth to a beautiful girl. The trauma over Bogdan’s invasion no doubt had a hand in jump-starting it, but with Doc Mack there and her family surrounding her for emotional support, everything went smoothly for once, and Dawn was brought kicking and screaming into the world.

Christophe and the other women were permitted into the city and made their way to the Sisters’ level. The women were welcomed into the group and immediately made comfortable, with fresh clothes for themselves and their children. Christophe stood awkwardly by, making small-talk with Lawrence, until he caught sight of Haema handing Meg a little hand-stitched jumper for her eldest.

"Haema?" he whispered.

She turned at the sound of her name and froze at the sight of him standing a few feet away. A smile nearly overtook his face, but he suddenly remembered his appearance - his missing hand and eye, his newly-acquired scars and bruises - and shrank back, wincing and visibly regretting the decision to show himself.

Haema didn't seem to share the same disgust. "Christophe," she whimpered, bringing her hands to her mouth to stifle her happy sobs. She took a few steps that quickly evolved into a sprint as she hurled herself into her children's father's arms, nearly knocking him off his feet. She wrapped herself around him like a thresher and wept into his shoulder. He didn't seem far behind her when it came to the waterworks and eventually fell to the ground, still holding her.

Lawrence gave them their privacy, turning away to find Eg standing next to him.

"You'll be leaving now that things are back to normal," Eg said, frowning.

"Yeah," Lawrence replied. "I've stayed here for way too long. And I still need answers."

It was clear that he was waiting for Eg to hand over his ID drive like they had agreed on, but the kid made no move to do so. "Stay one more night?" he asked, lifting those damned doe-eyes. "We're throwing another celebration. A Bogdan-is-officially-dead party."

Night was falling as they spoke anyway, so Lawrence didn't see the harm in it. This time, as the Sisters started a fire to roast their delicious skag on and cranked up the radio, the rest of the town was allowed to come enjoy the festivities. They had spent all week mourning those they had lost; it was time to rejoice over the fact that they were safe and sound and, in the Sisters' case, finally officially free.

True joy made the party much more than a chance to get drunk and high and dance like fools. Lawrence managed to coax Winger to join the festivities, though only because Imogen had gone with him to the Sheriff’s Office, and now they sat glued to the hip again around the fire while Imogen’s children and grandchildren circled around them.

Larry was probably the only one in town beside Eg who could actually dance. He showed off his moves to the delightment of the children and adults alike, and somehow he even managed to wrangle Lawrence onto the dancefloor, but only because Lawrence was high as a kite and too stupid to tell the man no.

At some point during the night, Lawrence glanced over to see Eg and Hale standing very close to each other. Their mouths moved, but Lawrence could only make out a few bits and pieces of their conversation if he really strained his ears.

He was about to turn back to the rest of the party when he saw Eg stand up on his tiptoes to put his lips against Hale's. The big lug stood there, seemingly frozen with pleasure if the stupid little smirk on his face was any indication, but when Eg moved to kiss him again, Hale shook his head and muttered something that made Eg frown sadly. When the smaller man spoke, Lawrence could make it out:

"I'm not afraid anymore."

Lawrence finally tore his gaze away from them when Hale gave in and returned Eg's kiss, and when Lawrence chanced a glance back at them, they were gone.

He grinned into his cup of ale before he downed the rest of it.

Come morning, Lawrence found both boys in the exact place he thought he would: in a tangled mess of sheets on Eg's bed. Hale's bare ass greeted him the second he poked his head through the door. Lawrence was a little surprised to find that Eg was still fully-clothed in the outfit he'd passed out in, but he didn't want to ponder just what the two men had gotten up to. As long as they were both content, it wasn't any of his business.

"Wakey, wakey," he cooed, slapping Hale's ass hard enough to make his hand throb for a split second.

The brute reared up with a gasp that dissolved into a moan, then an irritated groan when he realized that Eg hadn't been the one to slap his jiggly hindquarters. "Piss off, Glow Boy," he snarled, burying his face into Eg's shirt.

"Sorry to disturb your much-needed beauty sleep, but Eg has something I need."

Eg, more than still half-asleep, hummed and lifted an arm to rub his eye. "Give us a minute?" he asked through a yawn. He was too sweet to say no to, so Lawrence retreated back outside, giving the two men their space.

He ran into Winger on his morning patrol while he was waiting. "Yer headin' out today, right?" the deputy asked, not even bothering to mask his disappointment. "Don't suppose ya plan on comin' back, huh?"

"Not for a long time," Lawrence said sadly. He held out his hand for a shake. "Thanks for everything, Winger."

Winger scoffed and drew him into a crushing hug. "Thank _you_ , ya big glowin' galoot. Ya gonna say goodbye to the ladies, or are ya gonna make me do it?"

"The last thing I need right now is to get blasted by a dozen crying kids because Lantern Man is leaving them."

"Oh, but it's fine if I do, right?"

Lawrence shrugged and grinned at him. "You're the deputy."

"Puh." Winger hesitated. "Take care of yerself. And if ya ever need a safe haven, yer always welcome here."

Lawrence tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak little choking noise. "Shut up, you're gonna make me cry."

"Good."

Lawrence heard Eg's door finally swing open behind him. He turned, expecting to find Eg standing there, still half asleep and barefoot with his ID drive dangling in his hand. Instead, he found both Eg and Hale, fully dressed and equipped with small traveling satchels, standing behind him.

"Ready to go," Eg said cheerfully.

Lawrence stared at them. He felt like someone had jammed something in his ECHO port, making his brain malfunction. "Go?" he repeated, spitting the word out like a curse.

"Yeah, to the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve."

"The hell you are!" Lawrence exclaimed. "This - this isn't part of the deal we made, Eg!"

The kid had the gall to look unimpressed with Lawrence's behavior. "I believe your exact words were 'Bogdan's head for your ID drive'. I never told you I'd outright give it to you."

"You - you sneaky little - " Lawrence fumed and whirled around to face Winger. He made a "do something!" gesture with his hands towards the young men, but the deputy shook his head.

"Don't look at me!" he exclaimed, sounding like he was struggling to hold in laughter. "I can't keep ‘em here. They're free to do as they please."

Lawrence's anger was quickly melting away into desperation as he wracked his brain for a reason for these two kids to stay here. "But...the garden! Who'll tend to it if you come with me?" he offered, somewhat lamely.

"The Sisters are more than capable," Eg replied. He was being annoyingly calm and rational about this. "Paz has a green thumb and offered to care for it while we're away. Your friend Larry did, too. Besides, with most of the plants already beyond the sprouting stage, all they need to worry about is watering and weeding them. Not exactly rocket science."

Lawrence huffed. "Why?" he asked finally.

"Why - "

"Why do you want to come with me? You're safe here. You've got a home with family and freedom and - why would you want to leave all of that behind? And do not tell me you want to become vault hunters, because I swear...!"

Eg and Hale exchanged surprised glances. "We _do_ plan on coming back," Eg elaborated. "This is sort of a learning experience, I guess. You know, going out and seeing the world. No vault hunting, I promise."

"Yeah, you're gonna learn real fast just how rough this stupid planet can be," Lawrence muttered angrily. He was only mildly appeased that these two didn't want to be vault hunters. He had only just gotten away from Nathan and Joshua, who had practically begged him to teach them how it's done.

"Lawrence, let them come with ya," Winger said gently. "They'll have to learn how to survive on their own some day - "

"I work alone so that I don't endanger anyone," he snapped, glaring at the deputy. "If they come along, I'm gonna have to be watching their backs in addition to my own!"

Hale frowned. "You focus on you," he said, rolling his shoulder. The shotgun he'd taken from Bogdan's son, Sutton, was resting against his suntanned flesh.

Lawrence sneered and leaned in close. "Does your _mom_ know about this?"

Hale's face colored as he resolutely refused to meet anyone's gaze, especially Eg's. The shorter man whirled on his partner, eyes wide.

"Your mother's here? And you were going to leave without letting me meet her?" he demanded, genuinely hurt. "You were going to leave without _saying goodbye to her_?"

Hale didn't even bother attempting to come up with an excuse as he was hauled off towards Doc Mack's clinic. Lawrence tagged along, gleefully directing Eg to the building while Hale glared murderously at him over his beefy shoulder.

Doc Mack didn't seem surprised that her son was leaving ("You going to come back some day?" she asked, to which he replied with a simple, "Yeah.") but the sight of Eg hanging off her son's arm was enough to make the petite woman arch a brow.

"Friend of yours?" she asked, her sharp eyes sliding back to her son's matching pair.

"Yeah."

"Just friends?"

Hale shot Eg a quick glance. The kid was looking a little down as he returned Hale's look. Slowly he began to withdraw his hand from the crook of Hale's elbow, but Hale flexed, trapping his hand between his muscles.

"We're whatever he wants us to be," Hale said finally, turning back to Doc Mack.

The good doctor hummed and looked at Eg, a faint smile playing on her face. "And what would you like to be, Eg?" she asked gently.

Eg's face turned an unholy shade of red as he ducked his head, dislodging the hair tucked behind his ear. His golden locks slid in front of his face like a curtain closing on a show. "Friends," he squeaked. "We're friends. B-but I wouldn't mind being something more...eventually. If - if that's okay with you, ma'am."

That answer seemed to satisfy both Hale and his mother. She nodded and said, "My son's a grown man. I can't tell him what to do anymore or who he should make whoopee with."

" _Mom_ ," Hale groused over Eg's sputtering, half-hysterical laugh.

"What? Is that not what they call it nowadays?"

"We're leaving." Hale turned on his heel, almost dragging Eg with him. The kid called out a stuttering farewell to Doc Mack as Hale all but shoved Lawrence out the door with a well-placed elbow to his ribs, which only made Lawrence snicker harder.

"Aren't you glad you got that out of the way?" he teased as soon as they were back on Main Street.

"I'd snap your neck if I didn't know you'd just fix it with your stupid powers."

"Play nice," Eg told them. There was a huge smile on his face, though - something Hale noticed and began to turn red over. "We've got a long journey ahead of us."

"Do we? Where is this wildlife preserve?"

"Near the Highlands," Eg reported. "I don't know how to get there from here, though."

"Got it covered." Lawrence summoned his doubles. "Morning," he said to them before they could give their own stereotypical greetings, which seemed to shock the digital men. "What?"

"You are happy," Red said, sounding genuinely surprised. "You never sound this happy - especially so early in the morning."

Lawrence shrugged. "What, I can't be happy once in a while? The bad guy's dead, we're all okay, Eg got Hale's mom's blessing to date her son - "

"I'm going to snap your neck," Hale said.

Red's sharp gaze locked onto the young men standing behind his boss. Hale was almost as tall as Red was and twice as wide.

Lawrence frowned. He'd forgotten that Red had a crush on Eg and now regretted saying anything about it, even though it was pretty obvious there was something happening between the two teens.

"Okay," Eg said softly, concerned. "Can we just figure out where we're going and get there in one piece, please?"

Eg's plea snapped both Hale and Red out of their manly posturing competition. They both looked away from each other, huffing.

"We need to get to the Highlands," Lawrence began slowly, still eyeing his badass double. "Can you tell us the fastest way to get there?"

It took Red a moment to compile an accurate route. "Take the train back to the Dust," he began. "There's a road not too far from the train station that will take us towards the Highlands."

"Great!" Eg exclaimed, breaking into a smile that, to the untrained eye, did nothing to Red. Lawrence, however, was used to his doubles' facial ticks and quirks, so when Red cast the guy a glance from the corners of his eyes instead of turning to face him, Lawrence knew the dude was in trouble.

Eg and Hale made off for the train station, and Lawrence was about to follow when Blue reached over and slapped Red's arm. They passed right through each other with a flicker, but Red still reacted anyway, nearly scowling down at his less badass counterpart while Blue openly fumed.

"Stupid face noise," Blue snapped. It was strange hearing him sound so angry.

"Stop it," Red hissed right back.

Lawrence stared at them. "What's going on?"

They both fell silent. Red turned his head away, feigning innocence, while Blue frowned down at the ground, the epitome of a guilty man.

Lawrence pursed his lips. "One of you better speak up," he ordered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," Red said, but a sharp glare from Blue made him continue. "Blue is just concerned by your lack of interest in us. He seems to believe that if I anger you or your new friends, you will be less inclined to summon us in the future."

"What?" Lawrence choked out a weak laugh. "That's ridiculous! I'm not gonna, like, not summon you for battle or something because I'm upset with your behavior or anything, jeez."

"Of course," Red said, letting his gaze slide away. “For battle.”

Blue's expression crumbled just as they both flickered out of existence.

Lawrence gaped at the open air, beyond confused, until it hit him all at once. He had spent a lot of time with them before and during his stay in the Caustic Caverns and his journey to Lynchwood. Now he had new traveling partners. And his doubles were _jealous_. Worried, even. Did they think he would forget about them? To be fair, they had the right to; he'd hardly interacted with them at all for the past week and a half outside of needing them to fight or give directions. He would have to remedy this.

“You coming, Glow Boy?” Hale called. He and Eg were waiting patiently by the train station, eager to get this new adventure underway.

Lawrence grinned and dashed after them, already concocting a plan to make things right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the Lynchwood arc! A big thank-you to everyone who's left a review or a kudos - y'all are great! :)
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	62. Chapter 62

The train ride back to the Dust was as uneventful as the ride in, save for Hale's utter astonishment at being on a moving vehicle that wasn't a car. It actually took them a moment to coax him on board; the dude had been beyond tense as he tried and failed to cross over the threshold, but Eg took his hand in his and led him aboard soon enough.

Lawrence allowed himself to relax for the ten minute high-speed ride across the valley. The kids had their noses pressed up against the windows as they watched the sandy world pass them by.

"Does all of Pandora look like this?" he heard Hale whisper to Eg after a while.

The younger boy shook his head. "The Highlands have these rolling rocky green hills that go on for miles and miles. I only saw them from the air, but they looked amazing. Far nicer than the desert."

"Green?" Hale echoed.

"Yeah, with grass and stuff."

"What's grass?"

Eg looked momentarily stunned. "Oh, that's right, I forgot you grew up in Lynchwood. Well, you'll see for yourself soon enough," he promised, flashing Hale a dazzling grin that left the bigger man ducking his head and blushing.

Lawrence was amazed at how far these two had come in a matter of days. He had been unconscious during most of their bonding time thanks to that damned sandstorm, but even before then there had been a gentle spark between the two. He was glad that Eg was able to talk to Hale so easily, never mind actually be intimate with him. The kid was far stronger than anyone had given him credit for.

Soon enough, the train dumped them at the deserted train station in the Dust. A Catch-A-Ride station was perched not too far from there. With a mental thanks sent Scooter's way, Lawrence summoned a technical and planted himself behind the wheel while the boys climbed into the truck bed.

He summoned his doubles, who materialized next to him. Blue seemed startled to find himself in a car. If Red felt the same, he didn't show it.

"Sir?" Red prompted quietly. He looked a little ridiculous, hunched over in the seat next to Lawrence with half of his head disappearing through the sunroof.

"Hi," Lawrence told them, cracking a toothy grin that seemed to render both of his doubles mute. Did he really not smile that often? "Which way to the Highlands?"

Red pointed towards what looked like a gate in the distance. "There's a road through that gorge that will take you there in about sixteen hour's time," he said blandly. A pause. "Will that be all, sir?"

Lawrence frowned a little as he started the car and began to drive towards the gate. "Yeah," he said. "But I figured you wouldn't mind seeing the sights along the way."

"There isn't much to see, sir. Just the rocky walls of the gorge."

"Oh."

Another pause. "Is that all, sir?"

Blue rolled his eyes before Lawrence could pout. "The hanging out of times with the boss friend!" he snapped.

Red arched a brow at him before turning back to Lawrence. "Do you want us to stay, sir?"

Lawrence grinned at them. "Well, you are my travel buddies, right? Just 'cos I've got two more friends with me doesn't mean you two have been put on the back-burner."

A huge grin appeared on Blue's face as he let out a laugh and clapped his hands with glee. "See all the places with the friends! Do things with the friends!" he crowed.

"As you wish," Red said, flat as ever, but Lawrence knew him well enough now to notice the small quirk of his lips.

The gate creaked open as they approached, revealing the long, winding road ahead. Lawrence brought the car to a stop and looked through the rear-view at the vehicle's other passengers. "Last chance to back out," he warned over the engine's rumbling.

Both boys were staring down the road before them. Hale looked relatively calm while Eg had a wide-eyed, excited yet apprehensive expression on his youthful face. He met Lawrence's gaze and gave him a shaky thumbs up and a grin.

Lawrence returned the smile and put both hands on the wheel. "Hold onto your butts," he said.

He floored it and left the Dust behind.

~

About six hours into the journey through the gorge, Hale pounded on the roof and told Lawrence that if they didn't pull over soon to eat, drink and piss, the back of the technical was going to get very disgusting very quickly. Lawrence, sick of the muted grays and browns of the goddamned gorge, saw no problem in pulling over for a while.

They pulled off the road and all sat together in the bed of the truck. While Eg and Hale dug into the strips of skag meat they'd packed, Lawrence took inventory on the rest of their supplies. He himself didn't need anything outside of Eridium - he had restocked in the mines before leaving and had a satchel and pockets full of the stuff - but the kids needed food and water, which they had about maybe three days worth if they rationed it well. There were also some medical supplies - Anshin-brand medical thread, biostimulant patches, and medicine, which Doc Mack had given them.

"Expecting trouble?" he asked, flashing some of the stuff at the kids.

"Prepare for the worst and hope for the best," Eg said through a mouthful of meat. "S'what my mom used to say."

Well, he couldn't argue with sound logic.

Half an hour later they were back on the road. Lawrence was quite grateful that this place seemed to be deserted save for a few spiderants that he crushed beneath the wheels of the technical. Hale was armed with Sutton’s shotgun and Eg had brought his knife, but Lawrence wasn't quite sure that they would be able to fight from the back of the technical should bandits decide to pop up.

But goddamn did that make the drive hideously boring.

Thankfully about another hour into the journey, the gorge began to disappear. The road sloped upwards, the grays and browns became gray-greens. Bursts of foliage appeared every couple hundred feet, like fireworks against a brown sky.

Soon enough, Lawrence pulled over again and urged the stunned kids to follow him up the closest slope. A marvelous view greeted them as soon as they reached the top: green hills, rolling like waves frozen in time, extending for miles and miles around them.

Lawrence breathed in the sight. After weeks of nothing but dust and dirt drifting through the air and clinging to his clothes and lungs, it was nice to take a deep breath and smell the earth instead.

"Green," Hale muttered as he regarded the area through wide eyes. "You weren't kidding."

Eg flashed him a kind smile. He took Hale's huge paw in his dainty grip and urged him to touch the grass beneath their feet. Hale made a strangled noise as he spread his hand over the ground.

"Soft," he muttered. He lifted his gaze to Eg. "Like you."

Eg turned a marvelous shade of red, and Lawrence turned away, moving back towards the technical. He plunked himself down behind the wheel and let out a shaky sigh as he forced his mind not to think about a certain commando miles and miles away.

"Nearly there?" he asked his doubles.

Red nodded. "May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"'Course."

"There's a small town called Overlook that we'll be approaching in another two hours and twenty six minutes, give or take. I suggest spending the night there and heading to the preserve in the morning."

Lawrence pursed his lips. He'd been keeping an eye on the sky for a good percentage of the journey, weary of spotting a certain floating city against the bright blue sky, but so far they'd been in the clear. Staying somewhere for one night should be fine.

"If it makes you feel better, sir, Sanctuary was last reported hovering over the Tundra Express," Red supplied.

Lawrence didn't know where that was, but he assumed that it was probably nowhere near here. He cracked a weak grin. "Is there anything you can't do?" he asked, only half-serious.

"Have intercourse with a human being," Red replied almost immediately, his gaze blank and staring out the windshield.

A sputtering laugh bubbled out of Lawrence. "You - are you making a joke again or...?"

"Both, I suppose." Red held up his transparent hands and gave his fingers a wiggle for emphasis.

Blue nodded sagely, if a little sadly. "Beyond the realms of a face-sucking."

"Can't you, I dunno, try it with each other? Or would that be weird?"

Both doubles stared at him. "I believe it was you who called us brothers. So yes, at this point, it would be a little strange, sir," Red said.

Lawrence felt his face turning the same shade of red as his companion. "Right. Sorry."

A brief moment of awkward silence passed. Lawrence gripped the steering wheel, trying to distract himself, and found his gaze lingering on his watch. It was pretty beat up, he noticed suddenly. It was covered in scratches and tiny dents, no doubt from all of his rough landings, and the screen was cracked in the corner.

"What's it like in here?” He found himself asking as he reverently touched the battered device. “Y'know, when you disappear back into the watch? Is there like, a rec room you just hang out in until I summon you?"

"We don't disappear back into it," Red told him. "It simply acts as a power cell to allow us to generate whenever you need us. We cease to exist until you start it up with that code."

"You're telling me that when you vanish, you're essentially dead?"

"I wouldn't say dead, per say. Just not existing."

"And that every time I summon you, you're just - just thrown back into awareness?" Lawrence stared at them, horrified. "That - that's pretty fucked up."

"It is how it's always been for us." Red shrugged stiffly. Beside him, Blue nodded. "We are used to it."

"I wish there was a way I could keep you guys out here all the time," Lawrence whispered, frowning down at his lap. "I couldn't imagine being alive and aware one minute and then just...gone in the next."

“You would have to find an alternate source of power for us to use,” Red said. “It would undoubtedly need to be bigger than your watch if you intend for us to be conscious for longer periods of time.”

He figured as much. “Would you guys like that, though? Being around all the time?”

The doubles exchanged glances. “We want to be with you,” Red answered for the both of them. “We like being with you.”

Lawrence felt the stab of tears suddenly gathering in his eyes. He turned away from his friends and tried to blink the tears away, but they kept coming, leaving him a sniveling mess behind the wheel of the technical.

“Sir?” Red questioned, only sounding mildly alarmed. “Did - did I offend you?”

“Ceasing of eyeball juice,” Blue begged.

Lawrence sniffed hard and wiped at his face. “Y-you guys are the best,” he sobbed.

“Thank you?” Red offered, exchanging a completely baffled look with his shorter half. “Sir, please stop crying. There is no logical reason for you to be crying. It’s making me uncomfortable. Please stop.”

Choked laughs escaped Lawrence alongside his sobs, making him sound truly awful and deranged. “Sorry,” he wheezed. “I’m just glad you guys are here.”

“We are glad to serve you, sir,” Red reported as Blue stared out the windshield slowly shaking his head back and forth. “Even if you are strange sometimes.”

~

They reached the small cliff side town of Overlook as the sky was beginning to darken. A few stalkers offered to make trouble near the road, but Lawrence blasted past them and up and around the corner that led to the entrance of the town. His ass was numb, Eg and Hale were probably worse off, and even Red and Blue had opted to dematerialize for recharge after sitting in the car all day. They were all eager to unwind in what they hoped was a friendly place.

"Cute town," Eg murmured as he jumped from the truck bed. He turned his head towards the building behind them to their left. "Is that a bar?"

"First things first," Lawrence told them, nodding his head in the opposite direction towards the rest of town.

As they slowly made their way up the sloping, rocky ground that made up the town's road, Lawrence began to note with growing unease that the place seemed to be abandoned. The streets were bare of everything - from the piles of trash that Sanctuary frothed with to human presence - and it was deathly silent, save for the occasional shriek of wildlife from far below them. Lawrence half expected a surprise shootout, but, as they reached what he assumed to be the center of town, he came to the conclusion that no one was going to pop out of the woodwork to greet them in any shape or form.

A huge clock tower loomed over them, its hands frozen in place. A platform stood before them, empty, while to the left of them sat a very nasty-looking grinding machine. Its gears and blades were stained with old, flaking blood, as was the grass around it. Aside from that, there was nothing menacing about the place.

"Is it deserted?" Eg asked finally.

Hale grunted out a negative. "There are lights on in some of the houses. Curfew?"

"Possibly," Lawrence muttered. His eyes landed on the closest building and decided to hell with it. With the teenagers in tow, he made for the front porch and rapped his knuckles on the door three times.

To their surprise, they got a reply maybe ten seconds later.

"Y-yes? Can I help you?" chimed a feminine voice from within.

"Uh, hi," Lawrence began awkwardly. "My name's Lawrence, and I have with me two friends, Eg and Hale. We were wondering if this town's got anywhere safe we can...we..."

The door cracked open as he spoke, revealing the owner of the feminine voice to be a beautiful woman with short blond hair, freckles, and a ring of purple flowers adorning her head.

Lawrence's words died in his throat for a second as he took in the sight of her. He hadn't been this gobsmacked by a woman since Moxxi.

"You can wh-what?" the woman prompted, tilting her head. When she spoke, Lawrence caught a glimpse of a gap between her front teeth and - no, no, not fair, too cute.

"L...lay our heads for, um. One - one night," he choked out, literally stumbling over his own words. He could hear Eg and Hale snickering behind him, which was enough to snap him back into serious-business-mode. "We won't cause problems, ma'am. We're just passing through."

The woman continued to stare at him, no doubt on edge thanks to his stupid markings, but she seemed to become more at ease when she saw Eg and Hale's normal skin tones. "Are you from the preserve?" she asked, eyes sliding back to Lawrence.

"No. I-I mean, maybe. I'm on a mission to find out," he explained hastily. "It's a long story. Gosh, you're pret - this _town_ is super pretty! Are you in charge of it?"

Lawrence's fumbling made the woman crack a small smile that she tried and failed to hide behind a dainty hand. "More or less," she said, shrugging. "My n-name's Karima. Lawrence, Eg, and Hale, you said?" At their silent nods, she broke out into a dazzling smile that made Lawrence weak in the knees. "Wel-welcome to Overlook. It's been awhile since we've entertained anyone but vault hunters. Please come in."

She stepped aside, revealing a nicely furnished living room with the typical array of half-busted things one could only find on Pandora. There was a homey feeling about it that made Lawrence's shoulders slump with ease.

"Have you traveled far?" Karima asked as they gingerly moved around her living room.

"From Lynchwood," Eg spoke, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "In the Dust, about sixteen hours from here."

"I've n-never been out that way before," Karima said, making a face. "Too much...well, dust. No offense."

"I mean, you're not wrong."

Karma returned the young man's smile before facing the rest of them. "C-can I get you something to eat or drink? Sixteen hours is a long time."

"We have our own food," Lawrence tried to say, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

"I haven't played hostess in years now," she said, flashing that cute smile. "Allow me."

At the promise of something other than dried skag meat to eat, the kids gladly plunked their asses down at the tiny dining room table Karima had somehow managed to wedge in the already-cramped living quarters. Lawrence followed suit.

A few minutes later, Karima produced some fresh fruit, rakk ribs, and a gallon of fresh, chilled water that felt good sliding down Lawrence's throat despite the bad taste that came with it. He passed on everything else, leaving more for the kids, who gobbled up the food like it was the last thing they'd ever eat, which, on Pandora, that was pretty likely. Hale's eyes grew to the size of saucers when he tried a piece of melon for the first time in his life, and everyone had a chuckle when he practically swallowed the rest of it.

"Is there a curfew in effect?" Eg asked Karima once he had eaten his fill. "The town seems deserted."

Karima shook her head. "No, the town's fairly well populated. A little over a y-year ago, we all came down with a severe case of skull-shivers thanks to Hyperion's mining operations. Some vault hunters hel-helped us get medication, but we've all been sick for s-so long that the instinct to stay indoors even after we were cured has stuck." She shrugged and smiled, exposing a glimpse of that cute gap between her teeth. "Which is fine by me. It makes my job as town administrator a l-lot easier."

"So you are in charge," Lawrence said, somewhat relieved.

"As of m-my husband's untimely demise in the grinder thanks to Hyperion, yes."

Lawrence winced as he thought back to that awful looking machine out front. "Yikes. Sorry, didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"It's only fair. I was j-just about to ask you for your story with the whole..." She gestured to all of him. "I can't imagine you did this to yourself on purpose."

Lawrence didn't miss the way Eg and Hale turned to look at him, also seeking answers. He had kept most of his past under-wraps while in Lynchwood, figuring that nobody would want to hear something like that - not when they had their own demons to deal with. Lawrence was certain that Eg was still struggling to deal with his own issues and hadn't wanted to add to his stress.

"It's a really, really long story," he said finally. “And not a very happy one.”

Karima rose to her feet and disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned a moment later, she had four shot glasses in her one hand and a heft bottle of rakk ale in the other.

The version he told his new friends was severely cut down, mostly because he didn't feel like telling the entire story again, but also because Eg and Hale, who'd had maybe half a dozen shots between the two of them, were swaying in their seats and barely cognizant enough to offer their condolences by the end of the tale.

"Perhaps I should have watered their drinks down," Karima said with a light chuckle.

Lawrence smirked at the kids. "It's been a long drive. We're all pretty tired."

"I have enough room to sp-spare if you'd like to stay here for one night," Karima offered, gesturing to her surroundings. "Otherwise I can he-help you lug your friends to the nearest available building. Though currently I think th-the only one we have open is one close to the entrance of town, with no doors or win-windows."

She won him over fairly quickly. "If you don't mind. I guess they can stay put and I'll take the couch."

"Nonsense. I just p-put clean sheets on my bed upstairs."

"Really, I couldn't impose - "

Karima's mouth twisted as she struggled not to smile. "It's big enough for two."

Oh. That... _oh_.

"I-I know it's awfully forward of me," she began quickly, suddenly shy at the sight of his gobsmacked expression, "and you're fr-free to say no. I'll give you a roof over your head regardless."

"It's just...sudden. And unexpected," he added, stumbling over his own words.

"I'm lonely," she admitted softly, hugging her arms to her chest. "And from th-the sound of things, you are, too."

Incredibly. He hadn't felt an intimate touch since Axton, and just thinking about it now made him realize just how truly touch-starved he was. Still, there was one little thing that made him truly hesitate to say yes:

"You still wanna, uh, do it even with me looking the way I do?" he asked quietly, peering up at her from beneath his lashes.

Karima shrugged. "Hyperion s-screwed you over. It screwed me over, too. B-birds of a feather, I believe is the appropriate saying."

Lawrence raised his drink in toast to that.

After ushering a semi-conscious Hale and a completely smashed Eg over to a chair and the couch respectively, Karima lead him up the steep staircase into an open second level room that housed numerous pieces of technology, a computer console, and, as she promised, a large bed with new, if a little shabby, sheets.

Lawrence swallowed hard at the sight of it. Was he seriously about to do this with a woman he just met? She was cute and had a lovely personality that was definitely a rarity on this shithole of a planet, but having a one-night stand with her?

She sensed his uncertainty and took it upon herself to gently pull his coat off. It fell to the floor around his feet and sent a cloud of dust into the air; he frowned at it and apologized.

“If I m-minded dust, I wouldn’t have invited you and your friends in,” she told him, giggling. “No offense, but y-you’re covered in it.”

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror by the door and let out a strangled noise at the sight of his dust-layered hair and dirty cheeks. He realized that Hale and Eg looked much the same and he just hadn’t noticed because they’d looked dusty and dirty since day one. “Oh - jeez, I’m sorry, I’m tracking dirt everywhere - ” he babbled, taking a step away from her.

“It’s all right,” Karima assured him. “It’ll g-give me an excuse to clean later. Do you w-want to take a shower before we get down to business?”

Lawrence turned red and nodded shyly. He hadn’t adequately showered since the Caustic Caverns, he realized, quickly growing mortified. He probably smelled like death and dust and body funk.

Karima’s bathroom across the hall from her room was small, the shower even smaller. He had to duck under the showerhead to finish washing the soap from his hair, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. After literal weeks of not being able to adequately scrub himself clean, he had no desire to complain about luxuries.

Once finished, Lawrence contemplated on redressing, but opted to tie a towel around his hips. He found Karima sitting on her bed, still dressed, and looking over one of the many ECHO devices she had stacked on her dresser. She glanced up and grinned at the sight of him.

“Y-you clean up nice,” she said, setting the ECHO aside. Her eyes swiftly danced over his exposed torso and legs. “Very nice.”

He blushed under her praise and ducked his head. He wasn’t as skinny as he had been - in fact, he looked more like he had during his vault hunting years than he had in a long time. Not quite ripped, but definitely something nice to look at, even if most of his body was covered in purple-white swirls.

Karima beckoned him closer with a curled finger. He almost fell on his face as he made his way over to her.

"I-I haven't been with a woman since, like, college," he babbled as she tugged away his towel. "And even then it probably didn't count. S-so sorry in advance if I really screw this up somehow."

Karima laughed; it was a lovely noise that eased Lawrence's nerves. "Well, neither have I," she joked, prying a grin out of Lawrence. "Y-you're not being graded for this, Lawrence. This is j-just two friends not being lonely for one night."

"I can get behind that." Lawrence gingerly ran a hand through her hair. She leaned into his touch with a pleased little sigh, and when she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, he didn't stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You climb that tree, Karima.
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	63. Chapter 63

Lawrence yelped as cold, broad hands slammed down onto his posterior. The stinging pain snapped him out of his pleasant state of meditation and brought him crashing back down to reality: he was butt-naked in the middle of Karima's bed, sans Karima, and feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks. Well, he had been up until Hale slapped him awake.

"Rise n' shine, Glow Boy," the man said through a chuckling rumble.

Lawrence shot a heated glare over his shoulder at the kid, who stood grinning at him from the foot of the bed. "Go away," he groused before he burrowed back under the blankets, being sure to shield his bare ass from any more abuse.

"D'you know you got swirls on your ass? Makes me wonder about your front - "

" _Thank you_ , Hale, I'm up. Stop ogling my ass and get the hell outta here."

Hale chuckled all the way downstairs. Lawrence took a moment to blink blearily at the far wall before he forced himself to roll over and shuffle into the bathroom in search of his pants. They were folded neatly on the edge of the sink alongside his shirt; Karima must have picked up after his lazy ass.

A cracked yet polished mirror hung over the makeshift sink. After donning his pants, Lawrence stared at his reflection. Still glowing, still pretty ugly, but the pangs of terror and self-loathing Lawrence normally felt whenever he looked at himself were distant. He had long accepted that this was how he was going to look for the rest of his life. The glowing was a new addition, but at least it took the attention away from the brand.

After splashing some water on his face and pulling the rest of his clothes on, he made for the stairs, only to stroll to a halt at the sight of the mussed bed in the other room. Last night had been great, hands down, but he wasn't sure if he could do it again - with anyone. He had never really been a one night stand kind of guy. And apparently thinking about it now only made his heart ache for a man he'd never see again.

Lawrence's frown deepened. He was allowed to be happy, he thought firmly. He was allowed to have random romps in the sack with strangers and not feel guilty about it in the morning.

He sighed and rolled his eyes skyward as he descended the stairs. Sure he was _allowed_. That didn't mean it was guaranteed not to make him feel slightly shitty the morning after.

"Good morning, Lawrence," Eg greeted him from his spot at the dining room table. He was looking shitty for a very different reason, but he still tried to put a smile on his hungover mug. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh yeah he did," Hale muttered as he took his seat next to Eg, who flashed him a confused look.

"Shaddup," Lawrence grumbled. He sniffed the air, noting the distinct scent of rakk eggs and skag meat coming from the kitchen. "Breakfast?"

Eg nodded and winced at the pain it brought him. "Karima's making the ultimate hangover breakfast, or so she claims," he explained, rubbing the heel of his palm into his one eye. "Which I am eagerly awaiting."

"Be done in a few more m-minutes," Karima called from the kitchen. "Lawrence, c-come help me plate this stuff, please?"

He ducked into the little corner kitchen and found Karima hard at work in front of the stove. "Smells good," he offered as he grabbed some plates out of the nearest cabinet.

"Hopefully it'll t-taste as good as it smells," she said, flashing him a grin from over his shoulder. "You guys need to be w-well nourished for your trip today."

Lawrence made a face. "Please tell me it's not gonna take like, three days to get there. I like road trips as much as the next guy, but jeez."

"W-well, let's see. The preserve is south of here," she began, pursing her lips as she mentally mapped out the route. "Y-you can drive three quarters of the way there, but the road eventually narrows. You'll h-have to walk the rest of the w-way. If you leave right after breakfast, you should make it there before sundown."

"Thank you," Lawrence said sincerely as he held up a plate for her to scrape some yellow-green eggs onto. "For everything. Seriously. Nice people are so hard to come by on this planet."

"Yet you keep running into them." Karima's smile grew soft. "I hope you find wh-what you're looking for at the preserve, Lawrence."

Sometimes he thought he'd already gotten everything he could ever want back at Sanctuary, when he was curled up in Axton's bed with the commando's warm breath ghosting across the back of his neck.

"Y-you all right?"

Lawrence realized he was still holding the now-full plate of food in front of him while Karima was patiently waiting for him to grab an empty one. He hurried to do so, nearly spilling the food as he fumbled. "Yeah, sorry," he blurted. "Just...thinking about what-could've-beens."

She patted him on the arm in understanding, then filled the plate with food.

Breakfast was gratefully and hastily consumed by the house's current occupants. The hangover cure part of the meal must have worked, because by the time they were all packed up and heading towards the bandit technical, Eg was chattering away with Karima like he hadn't just been hunched over the table looking ready to upchuck.

As they loaded up, Hale nodded towards the pub. "Grab a beer before we head out?" he asked, half-joking.

"At this hour? Aren't you still hung over?" Lawrence asked, laughing.

"No more talk of alcohol, please," Eg gritted out. "I'm feeling better now and I don't want to ruin it."

"You guys should hurry," Karima cut in.

Lawrence arched a brow at her as the conversation abruptly died. "Expecting someone?" he asked, exchanging a quick glance with Eg and Hale, who now looked nervous.

"Your boyfriend?" Hale suggested.

"Boyfriend, y-yes." Karima's expression didn't change. "But not mine."

They stared at her for a long, confused moment, until suddenly Lawrence was aware of the fact that there was another car coming up the road - a runner with one passenger. But one passenger was all it took to work the mounted machine guns that littered the vehicle.

Thankfully that didn't happen. After the driver parked it next to their bandit technical, he climbed out of the driver’s seat, unhurried. He wore clothing foreign yet familiar to Lawrence, and was armed with several weapons, though he didn't take any of them in hand as he approached.

“Vault hunter,” Hale gritted out. He had gone entirely stiff, his one hand itching to grab for the shotgun at his hip.

"Should we be running?" Eg squeaked from where he hid behind Hale. "Lawrence? Should we run?"

Lawrence couldn't bring himself to move as the man slowly continued forward. He stopped maybe twenty feet from the group and began to remove his helmet, his actions as measured and as careful as his steps had been. The helmet came off with ease, finally revealing the man's face, though Lawrence knew all along who had been standing before him.

Axton, scruffy and in severe need of a haircut, gazed back at him. "Lawrence," he breathed through gritted teeth. His face was scrunched up with a myriad of emotions, with the dominant ones being anger and pain.

And Lawrence had made him look that way.

His fear and angst and urge to flee must have shown in his own expression, because Axton held up his hands in placation and choked out a, "Don't you fucking dare run from me again, you piece of shit."

Lawrence was already one step ahead of him. His stance shifted, and that was all Axton needed to see to prompt him to bolt forward with startling speed, enough to close the gap between them before Lawrence could completely throw himself away. Axton's added weight dragged him down; they hit the dirt hard a few feet from the others with muffled exclamations of pain.

Frenzied, Lawrence attempted to roll over and scramble up, but Axton recovered before he did and crawled on top of him, pinning him down before he could get away.

"Don't, Law!" Axton snarled, grabbing him by his wrists.

Lawrence could have thrown him off, could have melted into the goddamned earth or blown a hole through Axton's handsome, anguished face, but he didn't. He couldn't. Which was why Eg and Hale came to his defense like any sane, worried friends would do.

"Get off him!" Eg shrieked, tackling Axton from the side. The kid might've been spindly, but he had surprising strength coiled in those long limbs - enough so that he actually managed to dislodge Axton from atop Lawrence. They rolled away with Axton coming to rest on top of Eg, his revolver already in his hands. It was Hale he turned to point it at, however; the brute was lunging towards him with his own weapon drawn, his finger on the trigger.

Reality snapped Lawrence out of his shock just in time to lift an arm and freeze the bullet firing from Axton's revolver. It hovered in mid-air a few inches from Hale's stunned face before it dropped to the ground between them, clattering against the cobbles.

"Guns down," Lawrence snarled. He was panting, he realized, but ignored it when neither man complied. "I will melt them to your fucking hands, I swear to god. Put them down."

"Make him move," Hale snapped back. Lawrence couldn't see his face, but he could see his shoulders shaking with barely-restrained rage. He knew Hale wasn't looking at Axton, but at Eg, who was trembling fiercely beneath Axton's girth and pawing at the hand Axton had around his neck.

"Move," Lawrence hissed to Axton, who finally tore his gaze away from Hale to glower at him. When he failed to comply, Lawrence got up, planted his foot against Axton's chest, and kicked him off of Eg's prone body with perhaps a little more force than he should've used. Seeing the bastard go tumbling a few feet backwards on his ass was kind of satisfying, though, so he wasn't about to apologize - especially when Eg was in the throes of another panic attack.

He turned his attention to the kid in question for a second, noting that Hale was already at his side. He didn't touch Eg, but made sure that his presence was there, which seemed to calm him down some. He gazed up at Lawrence through watery, unseeing eyes, which only added fuel to the fire burning in Lawrence's veins.

"Hanging out with bandits now, huh?" Axton snarled between gulps of air as Lawrence approached him.

"They're kids. And they're my friends." Lawrence sneered down at the commando. With his weird outfit and scruffy looks, it was easy to pretend that this was just some asshole and not the guy Lawrence had fallen in love with once upon a time. "Why are you here, Axton?"

"Karima told me you were here."

Lawrence whirled on her, seething, but the woman in question looked remarkably calm as she held up her hands in surrender.

"A few weeks ago, S-Sanctuary put out a desperate missing persons report to every friendly town they knew of," she explained. "Th-they made it clear you weren't a criminal. Just a lost friend. I c-contacted them before dinner, but then I heard your story and realized I'd made a mistake that was too late to rectify. I'm sorry, I tried to get you to leave as q-quickly as possible to avoid this."

Now it was Axton's turn to glare at her. "Why would you do that?" he snapped, getting to his feet. "You knew how badly we all wanted to find him!"

"Lawrence clearly has his r-reasons. You should respect them and let him go if he t-truly wishes to leave."

Hearing it from someone else was like a shock of ice-water being dumped over their heads. Lawrence swallowed hard and shot Axton a quick look, finding him in a similar state of shock that he quickly shook off. Karima gave them their privacy, retreating over to Hale and Eg to see if there was anything she could do to help calm them down.

"And these reasons are?" Axton prompted quietly, turning his gaze back to Lawrence. There was still pain shining in the depths of the commando's eyes, but he no longer looked furious.

Lawrence sighed. "I need to find out exactly what Jack did to me," he said. "Filling in that empty space in my memory will give me closure. I'll be able to accept it as a part of my life and move on."

"You sure ‘bout that?" Axton asked, unblinking.

Lawrence returned his stare. "There might be a clue at the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve," he continued through gritted teeth. "Which is where we were headed before you interrupted. Is that all, _sir_? Do we have your permission to go now, _sir_?"

A sour expression flicked across Axton's face. "I didn't come here to beat your ass," he snapped. "Did it ever occur to you that when Karima hailed me and told me you were alive and in Overlook, all I wanted to do was see you?"

Lawrence's eyes flicked away as shame began to chew on his innards.

"It's been weeks, you asshole. You disappeared right in front of me, and when we lost that emergency beacon in the Frozen Wastes..." Axton trailed off as his voice grew rough and broke halfway through his sentence. "Best case scenario was that you left the planet. Joined forces with those Lost Legion dudes on Elpis, maybe. But I couldn't shake the feelin' that you were dead. Fuckin' hell, I woke up from nightmares where you - !" He cut himself off, almost embarrassed by the loud admission. "S-so yeah, I'm fuckin' pissed! Yeah I wanna throttle your fuckin' face, but the most I can do is stare at you like you're some holy, impossible creature 'cos I'm afraid you're gonna run again - and you fuckin' tried! You _tried_ to leave me _again_ , you prick!"

Lawrence let Axton vent, even as the man got closer and closer to him, enough so that Lawrence could feel the furious heat radiating off of him. Axton had every right to be angry, and every bone in Lawrence's body wanted to scoop him into an embrace and kiss him until his anger subsided. But he couldn't. That time was long passed, he told himself.

"I did," Lawrence agreed finally. His voice was hoarse, but he made no move to clear his throat. "I'm not going back until I have answers."

"Fine. Let's go find them, then." Axton started off towards the car, much to Lawrence's indignation.

"Whoa, wait, excuse me?" Lawrence sputtered out a laugh. "What the hell makes you think you're coming?"

The commando stopped and sent Lawrence an arched brow in question. "Any reason why I shouldn't? This clearly ain’t a solo mission if you're draggin’ two kids along for the ride."

Lawrence felt his face flush. He almost told him that there was something Eg had that he needed in order to gain access to Hyperion's database, but swallowed that information and said instead, "For one thing, Eg's terrified of you now."

Axton glanced at Eg, who was standing with Hale, and rolled his eyes. "He'll get over it."

Lawrence grabbed him by the front of his jacket and made him stumble backwards. "A very disgusting man held him and several women hostage for a long time," he hissed, practically growling. "They were forced to do a lot of things they didn't want to do. So watch your fucking hands with him, all right?"

Axton's wide eyes narrowed slightly as he pondered. "That fucker - ah, what was his name. Bogdan's the guy you're talkin' about, right?"

Lawrence blinked, startled, and loosened his grip slightly. "You know about him?"

"Yeah, we knew. Had a bounty on his head for a while, but," Axton sent him a pointed look, "somethin’ came up before any of us had the chance to nail him. Maya and Zero headed out there the other day to find his camp deserted and one of his asshole sons strung up like a pig. It was one of the things that gave us hope you might still be alive out here somewhere."

"One of?" Shit, was he leaving some sort of Eridium trail? Had Keith Sanders flubbed trying to turn off the distress beacon inside his watch?

Axton stared at him, his lips sealed.

Lawrence scowled at him and stormed off towards Hale, Eg, and Karima. Karima was sitting in the grass with Eg, who was leaning heavily against her and looking exhausted, but otherwise cognizant. Hale stood above him, his shotgun cocked and his eyes trained on Axton.

"Please tell me he isn't coming with us," he drawled flatly.

Lawrence opened his mouth before shutting it with an audible crack. He doubted Axton would take no for an answer.

"He attacked us," Hale pointed out.

"And you guys attacked him."

"To save you. Guy has no business touching any of us."

Lawrence sighed and rubbed at the port on his temple. "You're not wrong."

"That's the man you loved," Eg rasped suddenly, wide eyes on Lawrence. "Right?"

"Emphasis on past tense," Lawrence told him, but the words tasted foul in his mouth, like ash. He ignored it. "Look, it - I don't want to make you uncomfortable. He's already done a number on you."

"I can't get better if I don't face some of my fears," Eg pointed out. Karima helped him to his feet. "Besides, if you were in love with him once, he can't be all bad, right?"

"Puh," Lawrence snorted, lifting his eyes in a half-hearted eye roll. "Even I make mistakes, kid."

"I doubt you would have stayed with him for so long, never mind actually fall in love with him, if he's as bad as you're trying to make us think." Eg tilted his head like a puppy hearing a new noise. "You're stronger than that."

Lawrence released a massive sigh of acceptance. Axton had been good to him, so good, and this was how he'd repaid him. Just because he was acting shitty now didn't mean he deserved to be trash-talked, and he more or less admitted it to the kids.

Hale didn't look at all convinced. Karima put a careful hand on his shoulder and said, "I've w-worked with Axton before. He's a bonehead sometimes, but he's a g-good man. He won't hurt you - "

"You sure about that? 'Cos he and his friends sure love coming to Lynchwood and giving my mom a _lot_ of work to do."

The statement evaded Karima's understanding, but it made Lawrence's stomach roil with revulsion. He whirled on Axton, who caught his gaze and held it. Lawrence motioned for the kids to wait with Karima while he approached the commando again.

"You can come," Lawrence began, "but only if you make me a promise. The others in Sanctuary have to be in on this promise too before you agree to it."

Axton pursed his lips and nodded, waving at him to get on with it.

"No more raids on Lynchwood. You leave the town and its people alone from now on."

His request was met with a smirk that was nearly a smile and a small huff of laughter. "So you were at Lynchwood," Axton mused, rubbing his scruffy chin. "Well, that explains the deal the deputy struck up with us yesterday."

Lawrence gaped at him. "Winger actually got in touch with you? Did - _please_ tell me you accepted the deal."

"Fresh food and water in exchange for some peace and quiet? Fuck yeah we did. There're plenty of other bandit camps we can demolish when we get the urge. Real food's too good to pass up these days."

Lawrence released a shaky sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. That was one less thing to worry about. His thoughts drifted back to Sanders and his family back in the Caustic Caverns. He wondered if their food supplies were getting low yet.

"Oh, I, uh, got your message when that family delivered it to me," Axton added, as if reading his thoughts. "Nice folks. Their oldest kid keeps followin' Zero around, beggin' them to teach him how to hunt vaults - "

A sob escaped Lawrence along with the strangled chuckle. Suddenly he was crying.

"Bro?" Axton choked out, wide-eyed and concerned. "Are you - are you crying? What'd I say? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Lawrence managed to say. He sniffed hard and wiped at his eyes. He was happy, but he didn't want to admit it just yet. Things were working out for once - which, of course, meant that the other shoe was going to drop very, very soon. Lawrence just hoped it would wait until after Eg and Hale had left him for greener pastures. The last thing he needed was for them to get wrapped up in this more than they already were.

He turned away from a gob-smacked Axton and waved Hale and Eg over. They shuffled over carefully, like they were approaching a wild animal instead of a vault hunter. Really, a wild animal was probably less of threat.

"You've already met Hale and Eg," Lawrence said tersely, gesturing to the kids respectively. "Guys, this is Axton. My...ex-boyfriend."

Axton sneered at him before turning his attention on the other two. "Hey," he snapped, folding his arms across his broad chest. If he was trying to look intimidating, he already accomplished that when he threatened their lives, but Lawrence didn't say that despite wanting to very, very badly.

"Hello," Eg muttered, trying to be polite. Axton's tone of voice certainly wasn't making him any more relaxed, and Lawrence tried to relay this to the commando with a subtle head-tilt and a not-so-subtle glare.

Thankfully Axton seemed to figure it out. "Hey, uh, kid," he said awkwardly to Eg. "Sorry about the whole...what just happened. I didn't know you had, uh, issues."

Lawrence wanted to strangle him. Eg just shrugged and averted his eyes, frowning, but at least he wasn't trembling anymore. Hale, on the other hand, looked ready to tear Axton's throat out, but at least he'd holstered his shotgun for now. This was going to be the most awkward journey of his life, Lawrence realized.

They dragged themselves back to the bandit technical. Karima stayed by the entrance of town, wanting to wave them goodbye and good luck. Lawrence lingered by her side a moment until the others had shuffled out of earshot.

"Was last night just because you felt sorry about calling Axton?" he asked quietly. He was resolutely refusing to feel bad about it just because Axton had shown up again. If he was going to feel bad about it, it was going to be because Karima had used him.

The lady offered him a kind smile and patted him on the arm. "I meant every word I said," she told him serenely. "And I w-wouldn't be opposed if you came back for a round two."

She winked, and Lawrence felt his cheeks heat up. "I might," he said. "Us lonely folks have to stick together sometimes, right?"

Humming, Karima let her eyes drift over to Axton, who was pulling himself into the driver's seat, the bastard. "Maybe you'll c-come back with your answers and you won't be so lonely."

Doubtful. But he'd let her dream for him since he couldn’t.

With a farewell for now to Karima, Lawrence climbed into the back with Hale and Eg, much to their relief. He was just settling down between one of the bags of food and Eg when he caught Axton staring at him through the rear-view.

"You ain't ridin' shotgun with me?" the commando asked, looking genuinely disappointed.

Lawrence kept his face blank. "You know the way to the preserve," he said. "But if you're lonely, here."

He summoned his doubles, who automatically appeared in the passenger seats of the truck, much to Axton's surprise. Red frowned at him, confused, while Blue leaned forward and gasped with glee.

"Dahl man muscle soldier!" he squealed, elated. "Good seeing things time again!"

Red tilted his head. "Blue is happy to see you again," he translated, noting Axton's wide-eyed confusion. "As am I."

"Well, great. That makes two of you," he said, sending Lawrence half-assed glare, which went pointedly ignored.

Blue continued to stare at him, though the mirth had long faded into deep concern. "Caterpillar face-lip," he whispered to his double. Lawrence had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"What's he mumblin' about?"

"He's concerned about your face," Red translated.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with my face," Axton grunted, turning to the rear-view once more as he ruffled his beard. "Just a little hairier s'all."

"Yes. It's hideous."

Axton whirled on Red, sputtering, but Lawrence rapped on the cab with a knuckle and told them to get this show on the road before they lose more time than they already have. Grumbling, Axton put the car in gear, backed out of Overlook, and headed south.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	64. Chapter 64

" _Really_?" Axton snarled out of nowhere, almost making Lawrence jump. "Are we _really_ going to spend the entire trek not talking about - about - "

"About what?" Lawrence asked. They hadn't spoken at all on the drive over, and now that they'd had to ditch the car and start off on foot towards the preserve, it seemed like Axton had reached the end of his rope in regards to keeping quiet. "Stop shouting."

"About us!" Axton grabbed his arm, yanking him back a half-step.

Eg and Hale turned around at Axton's shout, both wearing wary expressions. Lawrence didn't miss the way Hale's grip on his shotgun caused his knuckles to turn white, but he waved off their concern. As nice as it was that they worried for him, he was a big boy and could take care of himself. The Eridium in his blood confirmed it.

The kids started moving again, and Lawrence turned to Axton. "Our relationship was over a long time ago, Ax," he reminded him firmly, jerking his arm out of the commando's grasp. "We've got nothing to talk about."

Axton sighed angrily and glared at the ground. "You're just...you're not even sorry about the way you left? We thought you were dead, you selfish piece of - "

"I'm aware," Lawrence snapped, "and I _am_ sorry I put you and the others through that. I didn't think I was safe enough to be around you guys anymore after I almost burnt your hand off."

Lawrence glanced down to the man's hands, only to find them covered with gloves. He reached for the one he’d left a smoldering mess, and Axton let him remove the glove covering it. Beneath the soft, worn leather was skin that bore the signs of a rough life: calluses from pulling triggers and little nicks and scars from fist fights. There was no trace of the blistering burns Lawrence had left him as a parting gift all those weeks ago, but Lawrence could still see it in his mind's eye: Axton hunched over and groaning in pain as his hand sizzled.

"I'm sorry," Lawrence said, releasing him. "I never meant to hurt anyone. My powers - they scared me. I didn't know how much of a hazard I was."

"You seem to be in control of them now," Axton pointed out. "You stopped a bullet with a wave of your hand, dude. That - that's intense."

He'd done much more than that, but he didn't want to give Axton any more reason to try to convince him to come back. "I'm slightly more stable," he admitted, shrugging. "Hyperion's probably still on my tail, though, so I can't risk staying in one place for too long."

"Where did you go?"

Lawrence nodded at him to keep moving. They slowly started after the kids, who had paused at the top of the hill to let them catch up.

"I didn't have a destination in mind when I flung myself away from Sanctuary," he began quietly. "I just - I had to get away from you, from everyone before I hurt more people. I landed in the Frozen Wastes, made my way to the Caustic Caverns to get underground for a bit - "

"That's where you cut the emergency signal, right?" Axton cut in. His side-eyeing game was strong and suspicious. "Y'know, I talked to Gaige about it. It’s pretty hard to do if you don't have the right tools. We thought you might've smashed your watch or somethin', but clearly that ain't the case."

Lawrence shot him a sour look. "I wouldn't do that to Red and Blue," he said sharply. "I...had Red walk me through it."

"Uh huh."

"Is this an interrogation or what?"

Axton threw his hands up in surrender. "Just tryin' to figure out what you've been doing," he said quickly. "Continue, please."

Lawrence stared at him for a long minute before he obeyed. "Anyway, I headed to Lynchwood shortly after that. Thought there might be some answers there since that's where Jack sent me towards the end of it all. Didn't find much, but people kept bringing up this stupid preserve, so I figured it was worth a look."

Axton nodded towards Eg and Hale. "And they just decided to come with you?"

"Eg's mother worked for Hyperion. He's got an ID drive I can use to access some of the more sensitive files in the preserve, or so we're hoping."

"Mm," Axton hummed, pursing his lips. "And you couldn't just...take the drive? They had to come along on a dangerous, potentially life threatening mission? Y'know the preserve isn't deserted, right? Hyperion engineers and Loader Bots still swarm the damn place, not to mention the wildlife crawlin' around. Hence the whole 'wildlife' part of the title - "

"Yes, I figured, thank you. Spare me the lecture. I assume Eg has his own reasons for wanting to come along."

"Egg...like, the food?"

"One 'G'."

"Ah. And the brute?"

Lawrence lifted his eyes to the man in question. Hale walked side by side with Eg a few feet ahead of them, his arm occasionally brushing against Eg's. "He's a good guy," Lawrence said. "He treats Eg well and that's all I care about."

"I've killed dozens of dudes like him all over this goddamned planet," Axton mused.

"Yeah, well, try not to kill this one. Eg's kind of attached to him." Lawrence shot him a sideways glance. "You know what I've been up to. How about you? How are things back in Sanctuary?"

If Axton noticed his fumble, he didn't mention it. "Fine. Shield's been up since you left, and Hyperion's been quiet." He shrugged one shoulder. "Same ol' shit."

"No vault hunting or looting or raiding to satisfy that thirst for glory of yours?" Lawrence teased, bumping him with his elbow.

"Been kinda busy lookin' for you."

Lawrence deflated, and Axton picked up his pace. Somehow that six foot gap separating them now felt wider than the hundreds of miles that had been between them for a month.

~

They stopped when daylight died to get some rest. Thanks to Axton's unexpected arrival that morning, they lost precious time, leaving them still pretty far from the preserve. According to the commando, there was no way they were going to break into the place in the middle of the night - not when more than half of the party had no idea what the preserve was like. Lawrence agreed with him there, so they made camp near a small stream trickling down from the top of the rocky hills. They were shielded from view on their left and from above if they tucked themselves close to the wall, but they were open to attack everywhere else.

Which wasn't a problem - not as long as Axton was there. The commando didn't need to be told; he got to his feet and nodded at the two kids to follow him to the edge of their camp as he unclipped a familiar brick-looking device from his shoulder.

Eg and Hale reluctantly went after the man, moving to stand behind him. Axton tossed the brick down onto the edge of their camp, causing it to unfold into his precious turret in a matter of seconds. It seemed bigger than usual, Lawrence noted. He wondered if Gaige ever got around to giving the damn thing an AI.

"Oh! A sabre turret," Eg breathed. His eyes were wide from astonishment rather than fear now as he took in the sight of it. "Dahl-issued?"

Axton nodded. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smirk. "Three hundred sixty degree rotation, two mounted guns that spit rounds in concentrated bursts, rocket pods, a targeting laser for added accuracy," he listed like he was talking about the weather. He patted one of the gun mounts and added affectionately, "She's my pride and joy."

"She's amazing," Eg agreed. Either he was truly impressed or he was kissing up to Axton in the best way possible. Regardless of the truth, Axton seemed to fall for it; he preened under the praise and gave his turret another affectionate pat.

"She needs to scan your bio-signatures," he said to the teenagers. "That way she won't tear through you like she does everyone else who ain't friendly." He reached out to snag Eg's arm, but froze halfway and instead beckoned him closer with a curled finger.

Eg went willingly and pressed his thumb to the nearly invisible scan pad located at the base of the turret’s cannons. Hale was quick to do the same with little more than a distrustful glance sent Axton's way. A minute later, both boys were registered and recorded as friendlies within the turret’s database.

"Now that that's settled," the commando said, turning around, "what's for dinner?"

Lawrence snorted. "You didn't bring any food of your own?"

"No," Axton said, good mood souring at Lawrence's shitty attitude. "Didn't have time to gear up. I got Karima's call and drove straight through the night from Ellie's to get to you."

"What were you doing at Ellie's?"

"Probably the same thing you were doing with Karima."

" _Oh_ -kay," Eg snapped suddenly, "I don't know what's going on between you two, but it has to stop before we get to the preserve. I can't count on you to watch my back if you're both arguing."

Both Lawrence and Axton opened their mouths to protest, but Eg held up a hand to silence them. "No. You two need to figure this out," he said firmly. "Go grab us some dinner. Talk. Don't come back until you've settled things."

Lawrence wasn't sure when Eg became the party leader, but as much as he wanted to protest purely for the sake of protesting, he knew the kid was right. He began to move, not bothering to wait for Axton. He heard the other man curse under his breath as he started off after him.

Under a heavy silence and a bright moon, they trekked maybe a quarter of a mile away from camp across the rolling Highland hills in search of some grub. It didn't take much longer for them to catch sight of a flock of rakk lazily circling over the remains of a stalker at the bottom of one of the hills. Lawrence didn't have a gun to bring them down, but that was fine. He didn't need one.

Without thinking much of it, he snagged a handful of the winged bastards mid-air and yanked them violently down to the ground with a burst of purple-white light. The few remaining rakks shrieked in outrage and attempted to swoop down in attack, but a quick burst from Axton's assault rifle easily stopped them.

"Nice shot," Lawrence offered quietly, shooting the man a glance. Axton stared straight back at him through wide eyes. "What?"

"You just pulled a Maya with the whole," Axton mimicked grabbing the air, "grabby thing. What else can you do?"

Lawrence shrugged as he began to strip the wings off the nearest rakk. "The shield thing," he offered. "Did it for Sanctuary and for Lynchwood when a sandstorm kicked up. Gotta have an ample supply of Eridium in me before I try it, otherwise I wind up bed-ridden with exhaustion for days."

Axton frowned. "That doesn't sound healthy."

"Nothing about this is healthy." It was a good thing he decided not to mention the whole "sprout wings and float" bullshit that also happened at Lynchwood. That was downright horrific.

"You ever think about goin' cold turkey again? Detoxin'?"

Lawrence set aside a second pair of wings that Axton started to tie together for the long walk back to camp. "Not really. This is who I am now," he said. "I told you before that I'm on this journey to accept myself. As freaky as these powers are, they're a part of me. And honestly, they've come in handy quite a bit since I left."

The commando hummed, clearly not pleased with that answer, but he didn't try to fight him or talk him out of it. A month ago he might have thrown another hissy fit like he had the first time the topic of detoxing had come up during the cleanup of Sanctuary, but apparently in the time Lawrence had been gone, Axton had grown up a little.

"Are we gonna spend the rest of this trip fightin’?" Axton asked after the silence between them became too stifling. "'Cos I'm gettin' real sick of it, to be honest."

"I'd prefer not to."

"All right. So apologize and we'll call it even."

Lawrence glared at him and threw another set of wings at him to add to the bundle. "You first."

"The hell do I have to be sorry for?" Axton snapped. "All I ever did was worry my goddamned head off over you for weeks on end. I'll be damned if I apologize for that."

Lawrence huffed through his nose. "Let's see: you threatened my friends thirty seconds into showing up in Overlook, you're here, on this mission, when I explicitly told you that this was something I had to do alone - "

"I already apologized to Eg, and it ain't a solo mission when you're draggin' him and his boyfriend along for the ride, so stop sayin' it is."

"That's not the point. I thought I made it clear that I didn't want you coming."

His harsh words made Axton flinch, which he tried to cover up by folding his arms across his chest. "So you didn't miss me at all, then."

It wasn't phrased like a question, Lawrence noted as a spike of fury stabbed him in his ribs. "Of course I did," he snarled, standing up. "I never once stopped thinking about you - "

"Clearly you did, since you never even bothered to let me know you were still alive," Axton fired right back. "At least not in person, and not until after I'd already started mournin'."

It hadn't really occurred to Lawrence that anyone would mourn him. For a brief moment he was truly remorseful, but logic shook sense back into him. He couldn't back down now.

"And what would you have done if I had told you where I was? Hmm? Would you have tried to convince me to come back?"

Axton glared at the ground. "No. I never said your reasons for leavin' Sanctuary were stupid - "

"But you would have tried to come with me. You would have been putting yourself in the exact danger I was trying to keep away from Sanctuary."

"That was my decision to make."

"No, it's wasn't! Not when I'm the one dragging around the danger!"

Axton threw his hands up as his patience finally snapped. "Y'know, sometimes you really are a lot like Jack," he snarled cruelly. "Only thinkin' about yourself!"

Lawrence went to slap him, but froze halfway, suddenly fearful that he might seriously hurt the commando if he struck him. Axton’s wide eyes were locked onto his; Lawrence wondered if he was fearing the same thing.

Tears burned the corners of Lawrence's eyes as he turned away from the other man, grabbed the bundle of rakk wings, and started back towards camp at a brisk pace.

He heard Axton curse behind him. "Dammit - Law! Lawrence, wait!" Axton snagged him by his sleeve and forced him to turn around to face him. "I didn't mean it, bro, I swear - "

"You did. And it's fine."

"But it ain't true - "

"It is." Lawrence met his startled, heartbroken look head on. "He'll always been a part of who I am. A small part, but a part of me regardless. I've accepted that much."

"Stop, okay? Just..." Axton shook his head and changed the subject. "Why can't you just accept the fact that I missed you and want to be with you?"

"All we ever did when we were together was have sex," Lawrence said. "And while that was lovely, most relationships need more than just that to function."

Axton's brow furrowed. "Oh, so that incident with the bandits in the Dust and all the bullshit with the Watcher - none of what I did for you ever mattered?"

"Of course they did! I never said we didn't care about each other. I'm talking about doing things together outside of the bedroom. As soon as we started our relationship, all we ever did was fuck! Gaige was right and I was too horny to see it!"

"Okay, so I didn't take you out on dates," Axton relented bitterly, "but don't you dare try to tell me we never connected beyond sex. Not when we would spend time afterwards or in between tellin' each other about ourselves. That crap I told you about wantin’ kids? I never told that to _anyone_ , Law. Even Gaige. I would die before tellin' most of what I told you to anyone else - 'cos I _trusted_ you and felt _safe_ with you, you prick. How the hell you gonna go and tell me that we were just - just _fuckbuddies_ after that and everythin' else that's happened?"

Lawrence felt himself self-destructing from the inside out. Everything Axton was saying was true, and it fucking destroyed Lawrence to realize it too late, that while they hadn't done much outside of the bedroom, they still had their moments - moments that counted for far more than any date Lawrence could have hoped to go on. He had been so blinded by trying to find a valid excuse to terminate their relationship that he'd overlooked the quiet, tender moments they'd shared in between everything. Axton was right - he only ever thought about himself.

"Why can't you see things from my point of view?" Axton rasped once the silence became too heavy for either of them to bear. "Just this once?"

"Because if I try, I'll give in," Lawrence choked out. The dam had burst, and there weren't enough sandbags in the world to stop the downpour of emotions frothing out of him right then. "I don't want to go through this alone. I want you with me all the time. I miss you so badly that sometimes it feels like I'm dying. But I can't be with you until I figure out who I am. Until I'm safe to be around. I want to - god, I want to - but I can't."

Axton stared at him. He looked ready to either burst into tears or unleash hell. It took him a long time to get his mouth to work, but when he finally did, the words that he solemnly said were far from what Lawrence had been expecting.

"Will you come back to Sanctuary with me when you find your answers?" he asked.

"I can't promise you that."

Axton frowned, disappointed, but nodded and let the conversation drop - possibly for the last time. Lawrence felt his chest constrict.

"Sanctuary was never my home, you know," he told him. Axton's frown deepened, but Lawrence continued before he could say anything. "My mom always told me that home was where the heart is. And my heart..." Lawrence swallowed hard and felt himself turn the darkest shade of red he had ever been in his life. "You're my heart, Ax. I’m - I’m home whenever I’m with you."

Axton stared at him, wielding the most open expression Lawrence had ever seen on him. When he blinked, his eyes were suddenly watery. "Jesus, Law, that ain't fair," he said through a wet laugh. "You can't tell me somethin' like that and not come back with me. S'not fair."

Lawrence sniffed. "I'll find you," he said, finding his own voice hoarse. "When I'm safe to be around and can finally accept myself, I'll come find you."

"I'll hold you to it."

"Just...don't wait up for me. I don't know how long this will take, so..."

Axton nodded. "Same goes for you." He paused, then send him a wet smile. "You know you're my fortune and glory, right?"

Just when Lawrence thought his face couldn't get any redder. "Oh my god," he muttered, ducking his head.

"All the legendary loot on Pandora can't stand up to you, bro - "

"Stop, stop, shut up!" Lawrence buried his face into his hands and let out a shriek. "You can't tell me shit like that, you asshole!" he wailed, peeling one hand away from his red face to shove at the cackling commando.

"That's what you get for droppin' that heart shit on me," Axton said, laughing. Abruptly he sobered, though his cheeks remained flushed. "I mean it, though."

"I know you do." Lawrence sniffed and scrubbed the back of his hand across his nose. He extended his other hand. "Hold this, you prick."

Axton was still snickering when he went to take whatever was in Lawrence's hand, but it died abruptly in his throat when Lawrence laced his fingers together with his. His rosy cheeks puffed out in a pout. "You ass," he muttered, squeezing Lawrence's hand. "I can't believe how much I missed you pullin' this goddamned trick."

"You love it."

"Yeah, I do." Axton paused, then cracked another grin. "Now that we ain't fighting anymore, you wanna makeout?"

Lawrence laughed. "I knew that was coming! And yes. Yes I do."

~

 _Somehow_ a sweet, innocent make-out session led to Lawrence and Axton dry-humping each other like wild animals in the middle of the Highlands. The noises coming from them were just as vicious - grunts and growls and snarls that put even the scariest of creatures to shame - as the primal urge to claim each other won out over anything remotely tender.

Eventually Lawrence untangled himself from the commando's thresher-like grip and shoved the man onto his stomach. Axton let himself be manhandled onto his knees, let Lawrence unbuckle his pants and shove them down his muscular thighs.

"Please tell me you can make a bottle of lube appear with those powers of yours," he rasped, only to suck in a deep breath as Lawrence's hand found his cock.

"Sorry," Lawrence said, leaning over the man to kiss the back of his neck. "Next time."

He pulled his own cock out of the confines of his pants and slid it between Axton's thighs, hissing at the delicious friction it caused. Axton let out his own appreciative noise as the head of Lawrence's cock tapped against his balls, which at this point were heavy and full with want.

They moved as one being; Lawrence coiled his arms around Axton's shivering frame - one hand wrapped around his cock and the other flat on his chest over his rapidly-beating heart - while Axton braced his arms on the ground to keep them both upright. He met every one of Lawrence's thrusts with his own, every cut-off gasp with an echoing weak "ah" of pleasure that went straight to Lawrence's groin.

It didn't take long for Lawrence to come, splattering the ground in front of Axton's knees with thick ropes of it. He sunk his teeth into the back of Axton's neck as he rode out his orgasm, almost breaking the skin. He lapped at it afterward, apologetic, but Axton merely grunted and gave his ass a wiggle, bringing Lawrence's attention back to a more pressing matter.

He flipped Axton onto his back, mindful to pull him away from the small puddle in the dirt, and dragged the man's hips onto his lap. Axton's legs instinctively wrapped around Lawrence's back, but Lawrence gently pried them away in order to spread them even more.

Axton's thick cock was weeping at this point, it's head an angry shade of red. Lawrence gave it a tender lick before diving in with great vigor, leaving the commando practically sobbing from where he lay. Lawrence silenced his cries with his index and middle finger, pressing them against Axton's lips until he sucked them into the warm, wet confines of his mouth. He hummed loudly around the digits, soaking them with lashes of his tongue, and whimpered when Lawrence slowly withdrew them.

When Lawrence breached him with a careful finger, he felt Axton's cock jerk from where it sat against Lawrence's tongue. He began sucking in earnest in time with flexing his finger, until finally he found that spot inside the commando that drove him crazy.

"Jesus fuck," was all Axton could say in warning, and then he was coming, shooting his load down Lawrence's throat. There was a lot of it - more than Lawrence had expected for someone who had claimed to have had sex a day or so ago - but he couldn't comment on it even if he had the mind to. He swallowed it all and continued to hum and suckle on Axton's cock until it was too much for him to take. Axton batted him away with a limp hand, then collapsed against the dirt, chest heaving.

"That was hot as hell," he slurred eventually, head lolling back.

"I aim to please," Lawrence said, patting him on the thigh as he rose to his feet. "C'mon, we've spent too much time out here."

"You broke me. You're gonna have to carry me back to camp."

"I can drag you," Lawrence offered. "Or teleport us."

Axton perked up at the sound of that, but quickly sobered. "Maybe not the best idea," he said as he slowly rose to his feet and did up his pants. "Don't wanna, uh, suddenly appear in the middle of the kids gettin' it on."

Lawrence froze. "You think that's what they're doing?"

"I dunno. It's what I’d be doin' if I was their age and finally free from my chaperons - "

Lawrence seized Axton by his shirt, envisioned their campsite, then flung himself in that general direction. He somehow managed to get them within sight of the camp without snapping his legs or Axton's spine on impact, though it definitely wasn't as smooth of a landing as it could have been. Axton wheezed, probably more from the actual act of teleporting than the fact that Lawrence had accidentally dumped him face-first into the dirt.

"Fuckin' hell," he choked out, slowly pushing himself to his knees. "I think I prefer walkin’."

"Still working on the landing part," Lawrence told him lamely as he got to his feet and wobbled his way back to camp.

Axton's turret was still up and dutifully scanning the horizon for threats. Behind her near a newly-built fire were Hale and Eg, sat side by side with a respectable amount of distance between them. Eg was talking about something or other and had Hale's utmost attention, at least until he caught sight of Lawrence and Axton and nodded at them in greeting.

Eg turned to flash them a smile. "I'm glad you didn't kill each other out there," he said. "Everything okay now between you two?"

"Getting there," both men said at the same time.

"Good!" Eg's smile waned. "No dinner? What were you two doing out there for so long, then?"

Lawrence and Axton reached for their sides in unison, only to turn and send each other wide-eyed looks when they realized that they had left the rakk wings behind, forgotten in their passion and their urge to get back to camp in case the kids were up to no good.

"Piss!" Lawrence snarled, teleported back to where he'd left the bundle of rakk wings, and then flung himself back to camp, just barely managing to land on his feet. By then Axton had migrated to the fire. He was sitting across from the kids, who were now smirking knowingly at him.

Eg turned that smarmy smirk onto Lawrence. "You know, when I told you guys to make up, I didn't mean - "

"Food," Lawrence snapped, tossing the rakk wings to Eg and Hale. "Roast 'em up and chow down, then it's bed time. No buts."

"Okay, Dad," Hale drawled, rolling his eyes as Eg openly giggled next to him. "Can you help me with my homework later, too?"

"Ask your other dad."

Axton's head jerked up as he shot everyone a glare. "Uh uh - I dropped outta school at sixteen to join the army. You're on your own, kid."

"Dammit," Hale said through a sigh.

"Language," Lawrence and Axton said as Eg's giggles evolved into high-pitched cackling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	65. Chapter 65

Lawrence decided very quickly that he did not like the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve.

It wasn't the hordes of stalkers and skags and half-feral Hyperion personnel rearing their heads into their business that irritated Lawrence - it was just the overall atmosphere of the place. It was run-down for sure, clearly abandoned when it came to actually exploiting said wildlife, and the thick, heavy air that hung over them the entire trek inside the research area made him nauseous.

"You okay?" Axton asked as he reloaded his rifle. He'd been doing most of the heavy killing part of the trip, with Hale occasionally blowing someone away when they got too close. "You're sweatin' and - stop doin' that."

He pulled Lawrence's hand away from his mouth, exposing the flesh he'd bitten away just in time for both of them to watch it heal.

"Nervous," he admitted quietly, eyes darting to the younger boys who were walking up ahead. Eg had taken the lead once they'd made it inside, claiming to know a little bit about the area. Hale was practically his shadow, ready to strike should anything attempt to come out of the metalwork and disrupt their search.

Axton hummed and rubbed his elbow against Lawrence's. "It'll be fine," he said softly. "We'll find what you're looking for."

That was what he was afraid of.

They continued down the hallway, only pausing to take out a Hyperion soldier or two that dared to get in their way. Eg eventually led them through a doorway that could only be opened with his ID drive. After that, Axton said, they were in foreign territory.

Thankfully there didn't seem to be anyone around. Another short trek down a hallway led them into a large room filled with terminals and consoles - the research room.

"The files should still be here," Eg said as he hurried over to the nearest dusty console and booted it up. The lights in the room flickered in protest, but the power remained on for now.

"And if they're not?" Lawrence asked.

"I have an idea of where they could be," Axton said, rubbing his scruff. "But let's hope they're still here. I really don't want to have to trek all the way to the Arid Nexus."

Lawrence had no idea where that was, but it was probably well out of the way and a pain in the ass to get to. The thought of another long road trip made him want to pull his hair out.

Eg stuck his ID drive into one of the ports on the side of a machine and began typing rapidly into the keyboard. Time away from Helios hadn't impeded his tech-savvy-ness; that kind of thing was practically genetics nowadays. Sure enough, in a matter of minutes, he was able to hack into and locate almost thirty files labeled, to Lawrence's surprise, "Timothy Lawrence."

"Is that your real name?" Hale asked.

"Yeah, from - from before," Lawrence said shakily as Eg vacated the chair and manhandled him into it. "Wh-where should I start from?"

"They're all in chronological order," Eg told him gently. "I suggest starting from the beginning."

Lawrence nodded and clicked on the first file. It popped up onto the monitor as a video player window, paused on a black screen. It was about four minutes long, he noted.

Funny. Up until now, he had been adamant in getting here and seeing this shit with his own two eyes. Now that the time had come, however, he was left a jittery mess sitting hunched over in a chair with his trembling hand hovering over the play button.

He couldn't do it.

Axton's hand appeared over his, touching but not forcing him down. Shortly after, Eg's joined in, and even Hale decided to touch the tips of his fingers to his thumb.

"You don't have to go through this alone," Axton reminded him. "Ready when you are."

Lawrence sniffed hard. "Okay."

He brought his hand down on the space bar.

The video flickered to life. A broad, bald-headed man who looked more suited for football rather than scientific experimentation appeared on the screen. He looked vaguely familiar, Lawrence noted, but couldn't put his finger on it, even as the man started talking into the camera.

"My name is Doctor Joseph Strife," he began through a nervous sigh. "ID number: 574-34. I'm a Hyperion scientist stationed on the border planet of Pandora at the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve. I'm recording this per Handsome Jack's orders for...further studying." The man's face twisted with displeasure, but he didn't elaborate. "In approximately one hour, a new subject, code-named Timothy Lawrence, will be brought in for testing."

Strife shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "For the past several months, Handsome Jack has ordered us to perform experiments on the local flora and fauna using slag, a by-product of the refinement process for the recently discovered mineral Eridium. The results have been...most interesting," he said lamely, trying and failing to hide his scowl. "Most human subjects wind up dead after extreme amounts of exposure to slag. For Timothy Lawrence, however, we will be using Eridium in its natural state to provoke a reaction. It...I..."

For a long ten seconds, the scientist was quiet, staring down at his lap in what looked like depressed resignation.

"A while ago, we found some ECHOs that suggested that most of the scientists here were bein' forced by Jack to experiment on people," Axton said in that brief moment of silence. "Looks like this Strife dude's not exempt."

"My mother certainly didn't like doing it," Eg said in grim agreement.

Eventually Strife picked his head up and continued. "Our goal is to replicate the same obedience and power that the Dahl Lost Legion exhibited after years of exposure to the raw mineral. Only, instead of Timothy Lawrence being loyal to Dahl, he will be devoted to serving Handsome Jack in every way."

Lawrence nodded to himself and frowned as Axton batted his hand away from his mouth again. That much he knew already.

Strife audibly swallowed. "Should we master this process, the end goal is to create a powerful, loyal army for Handsome Jack to use at his discretion," he admitted, lifting his gaze to the lens. "Robots break and malfunction. Human soldiers are even more fragile, true, but I've seen what the Lost Legion was capable of at their prime. To create an army like that...well, I'll attach the information we have on the Lost Legion to this video so you can see what I mean. The word 'unstoppable' comes to mind, and I don't use that word lightly."

Lawrence imagined a hundred guys like him running around doing Jack's bidding and nearly vomited. The whole universe would be in trouble, never mind Pandora.

"If there's one man who deserves to have that much power in the palm of his hand, it's Handsome Jack," Strife concluded flatly, clearly believing anything but the words coming out of his own mouth. "We'll do the best we can to make sure he gets that power. This is Doctor Strife, signing off."

The video ended with the doctor reaching up to turn the camera off. A heavy silence hung over the group.

"I knew that Jack wanted to turn me into whatever the Lost Legion was," Lawrence began shakily, "but I had no idea he planned on doing this shit to other people. Not surprising, though."

"I guess it's a good thing we stopped him before that happened," Axton offered, squeezing his shoulder. "Don't fret about shit that never happened, okay?"

It was hard not to, but Axton definitely had a point. There was no way for anything like that to happen anymore - especially since Lawrence was already concocting a plan to burn this place down as soon as he was done watching all of these videos. Nobody else would know that this had almost been a thing.

"This is gonna take a while," he said as he brought up the next video. The ones after it were upwards of four to eight hours long. "You guys might wanna set up camp or grab some coffee or something."

"Already on it," Hale said from the corner where he'd dumped their gear. Eg sat cross-legged on the floor against the wall, positioned so that he could still see whatever video was being played, and Hale was quick to join him, sitting so close that their knees were brushing.

"We're here for you," Eg told him gently, noticing his wide-eyed stare. "That's what friends do."

Lawrence felt his eyes burn as he turned back to the screen. "Thank you."

The next video was after he had been brought in. Dr. Strife started recording same as he had before and tilted the camera so that he could get a shot of Timothy lying on what was clearly an operating table. He was limp, but they weren't taking any chances and had already strapped him in. The collar around his neck was an ugly black and purple smudge against the pale flesh of his neck. From the camera angle, Lawrence couldn't tell if he was conscious. Awake, maybe - but probably not conscious. Lawrence had no memories of any of this.

"This is Dr. Strife, Hyperion employee ID number: 574-34," the doctor began shakily. He looked awfully pale - almost as pale as Timothy did. "About an hour ago, our newest test subject, code-named Timothy Lawrence, was brought it for studying and further treatment. I say 'further' because Handsome Jack has already put a collar of his own design on the subject.

"The Lost Legion soldiers gained their powers after being exposed to the raw form of Eridium for upwards of a year or more. After reviewing the data collected from the captured Lost Legion soldiers that had been on Helios for a short time, it can be deduced that the mineral was gradually absorbed into their bodies through their skin, hence the strange markings you've seen if you reviewed the notes attached to my previous video log. Once absorbed, it settled in their blood. Handsome Jack seems to think that we can bypass the lengthy absorption process by simply flooding the test subject's veins with a liquefied form of the mineral. The collar around Timothy Lawrence’s neck will allow us to do this, but..."

Strife turned to send Timothy a grim, thin-lipped look. "We can't be certain this will work the way Handsome Jack thinks it will," he continued quietly. "He's already started the process and Timothy Lawrence has taken it fairly well, but as of yet there's been no change to the subject's body beyond an increased count of Eridium content in his blood. The amount of Eridium we'll need to fully complete the transformation is currently unknown."

The doctor turned back to the camera and let out a silent sigh. "Testing will begin as soon as I end this video. Until further progress is made, all video evidence will be recorded on the CCTV cameras stationed in the upper corner of this room. This is Dr. Strife signing off."

The video ended, and Lawrence turned to the next one. It was considerably longer, almost eight hours worth. So were the next ten video files. It made him sigh with apprehension and annoyance, but he clicked on it anyway.

Timothy still lay immobile on the operating table, same as he had been in Dr. Strife's video report. A full five minutes passed, and out of frustration Lawrence clicked ahead on the video by about an hour, only to find Timothy in the same position. It was maybe three hours into the video that someone finally entered the room. Dr. Strife, followed by a blond-haired woman in a lab coat, filed into the room pulling a rather large, intimidating machine on a cart.

"Mama!" Eg blurted, jerking to his feet. "Th-that's my mom, my birth mother! Doctor Samuels!"

Lawrence swallowed hard as Dr. Strife and Dr. Samuels began to hook the machine up to the collar around Timothy's neck. "When was the last time you saw her?" he asked quietly.

"I..." Eg's brow furrowed as he reached out to touch the screen where his mother stood. "Before Bogdan. She probably assumed I died along with Mother when the shuttle went down. Maybe she's back on Helios now, I don't know."

The other obvious option hung in the air, but no one was willing to bat at it, especially when they had no proof yet. Lawrence let it go, turning his attention back to the video.

The doctors had finished hooking Timothy up to the new machine, which they had stationed by the top of the operating table near Timothy's head. Dr. Strife looked up at the camera, frowned, then turned back to the machine. He grasped the lever and gently pulled it down about three inches. The machine gave a rumble, then slowly started pumping liquefied Eridium through the transparent tubes into the collar around Timothy's neck. A second later, Timothy's body jerked, then heaved in protest at the fresh intrusion. The doctors made some notes on the pads in their hands, but otherwise didn't look too concerned. It went on for nearly ten minutes before Dr. Strife showed some mercy and turned the flow off. Timothy collapsed into a heaving heap, but made no noise - barely even blinked in protest. His skin had taken on an unhealthy gray pallor behind the sheen of sweat, but that didn't seem to concern the scientists either.

"I imagine a lot of these videos are going to feature me writhing in pain on a table while my body is destroyed from the inside out," Lawrence muttered as Dr. Strife turned the machine on once more.

"Maybe if you find another one of his video logs and check out the video before that," Axton suggested, pointing at one of the files farther down the list. "The doc said he'd make a new log if they made a breakthrough, right? I'm assumin’ whatever breakthrough they might have discovered would be recorded on the CCTV footage from before the log."

Lawrence brought up the video Axton pointed to and set it so that it was fast forwarding at three times the speed. For the first two hours, Timothy lay unmoving on the operating table. The transparent tubes were still hooked into the collar around his neck, though they remained empty until Dr. Strife and Eg's mother came into the room and began the usual round of experiments.

About halfway through the video, the shit hit the fan in the form of Jack practically kicking in the door. Both doctors jumped away from Timothy; Dr. Strife fumbled with the lever, shutting the damned thing down.

"Sir," they muttered, practically bowing their heads in reverence and-or fear as the CEO strolled in. Lawrence felt his heart fall into his stomach when Mr. Blake walked in behind Jack, head low and gaze everywhere but on Timothy.

Jack ignored them and went straight for Timothy. "How's my favorite body double?" he cooed, leaning over the table to take Timothy by the jaw with his thumb and index finger. Timothy didn't respond in the slightest, but that didn't deter Jack. "It's been so long since I last saw you, buddy! How you doin'? Gettin’ pumped full of Eridium, huh? Gosh, I bet that smarts, doesn't it?"

His questions were met with silence. Jack turned his smarmy smirk onto the scientists. "Well?" he prompted flatly, attitude crumbling away into one of pure annoyance. "Gimme the deets, chuckleheads. I mean, jeez, what am I paying you for?"

"Um - it - the procedure appears to be working," Samuels said. "We've been starting off with small doses of Eridium - "

"Oh, no, no, no," Jack snapped, tsking. "The whole point of this setup was so that I wouldn't have to wait for an Eridium-junkie of my very own. Or was I not clear about that in the directions I sent over?"

"You were crystal clear, sir - " Strife began shakily.

"Too much too quickly could have unwanted effects," Samuels cut in, just barely managing to keep her tone somewhere between firm and utterly fed up. "We're still learning about this process, sir. It's going to take a few more days before we can safely increase the output of Eridium into the subject's blood stream."

"Uh huh, yeah, _or_ we could just do _this_."

Shoving the scientists out of the way, Jack threw the lever on the machine all the way down. The tubes lit up a bright purple as Eridium surged through them and into the collar around Timothy's neck at an alarming pace.

This time, Jack got the reaction he wanted. Timothy writhed and screamed as his body was flushed with more of the mineral. It bubbled out of his mouth as he choked on it, and when he finally managed to blink, the tears that flowed down his cheeks were tinted with it. The veins on his arms were practically bulging through his paper-white flesh - a bright purple instead of their typical blue. Next to him, the machine keeping track of his vitals was going ballistic; it was beeping so quickly that it sounded like one long noise, and the spikes that indicated his heartbeat were off the chart.

Jack let out a delighted crow loud enough to make the audio on the video crackle. "Whoo, that's what I'm talkin' about! Give it a go, Jimmy. It's surprising how much stress this kinda thing takes off of ya!" He slapped the older man on the back, making him stumble into the lever.

Lawrence shouldn't have felt a stabbing sensation in his lungs when Mr. Blake didn't even hesitate to yank on the lever, sending a new wave of Eridium into Timothy's body. The man had been working him over from the very beginning, after all.

It didn't take long for Jack to snatch the reins back, which seemed to relieve Mr. Blake to a degree, if his slight slouch was any indication. Jack spent maybe another ten seconds watching Timothy flail before he grew bored and let go of the lever, finally allowing Timothy some rest.

The damage had been done, though: Timothy's skin was now a strange shade of gray, and in the shoddy quality of the video Lawrence could just barely make out the beginnings of the swirls that now covered eighty percent of his body.

"See?" Jack said, gesturing to Timothy's body. " _That's_ what I call progress! More like that, yeah?" He smacked a stunned Dr. Strife on the back before he headed towards the door. "I'll be back later on in the week to check on my favorite toy. Oh, and Sammy?"

Dr. Samuels glanced up, her lips a thin line. "Yes, sir?"

Jack leaned in close, but the camera mic still picked up his icy words. "Watch the attitude. We had that little chat about your wife. I think now might be a good time to bring up that cute little boy of yours. Bert, right? Wouldn't want anything to happen to either of them because you couldn't control your mouth, would ya?"

Samuels paled about six shades before lowering her gaze in submission. "Yes, sir. I apologize, sir."

Jack patted her on the head. "Good girl. C'mon, Jimmy, we got shit to do," he barked, turning on his heel and marching out the door. "Toodles, bitches!"

The door slid shut with Mr. Blake's departure. A split second later Dr. Samuels was hurling her ECHO recorder to the ground cursing her head off while Dr. Strife did his best to comfort her.

Eg gave a strangled sob from behind Lawrence. "Oh, Mama. I didn't know it was this bad. I never knew _he_ was this bad."

"What a piece of shit," Hale hissed in agreement, practically trembling with rage. "Everyone always said he was, but I never had any real idea. Not until now."

The video ended with the scientists stabilizing Timothy. Lawrence clicked on the next one, Dr. Strife's video log update. The man's face was gaunt; if the timestamp was correct, this video had been recorded not too long after Jack's visit and tampering.

"Dr. Strife, 574-34," he rasped, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his index and thumb. "Handsome Jack just paid the subject Timothy Lawrence a visit and nearly killed him. He's stabilized now, but it was a near thing. It was as we feared: too much Eridium too quickly will kill him. As dangerous as the dose was, it gave the desired effect Handsome Jack has been seeking. Physically, the subject now slightly resembles the Lost Legion soldiers, with discolored skin and strange markings appearing on his body. We're going to run some tests shortly to see if anything else has changed. Dr. Samuels had to...step out quickly to take care of some personal matters - "

A knock at the door interrupted him. Strife jumped to his feet, startled, and forgot to shut off the camera as he hurried off-screen to let whoever it was inside. He probably thought it was Dr. Strife, and so did Lawrence up until the scientist gave a shocked noise.

"M-Mr. Blake, sir - "

"I wish to see Timothy Lawrence for a minute," the vice president began. "Alone, if you don't mind."

"I - sure, sir, of - of course. Just - we've only just stabilized him - "

"I have no intentions of pulling that lever again, Dr. Strife."

Mr. Blake's sharp tone made the scientist slink out of the room. A moment later, Mr. Blake stepped into the frame, unaware that he was being recorded from Dr. Strife's computer. He stood there for a long time, just staring down at Timothy's still body. Lawrence couldn't even begin to wonder what the man was thinking. It always seemed to be the opposite of what he assumed, even before the betrayal.

Eventually the vice president moved, but not towards the door or the lever on the Eridium pumping machine. He bent low over Timothy and brought a small device out of his pocket that he placed close to Timothy’s head.

"This is - Handsome Jack," came Jack's voice from the small device. It was clear that the clips had been ripped from several different sources all spliced together into one hideous-sounding string of audio. "If - in the event of - my - or - Nisha's - death," the device continued, "you will - stand down. Have - I made myself - clear?"

Timothy's mouth opened. "Yes, sir," he croaked.

Blake sat back, snapped the device in half, and pocketed the remains before leaving the room. Shortly after, Dr. Strife returned, fumbling quickly with the camera. The video ended.

"He helped you," Axton whispered in the quiet that followed. He sounded as stunned as Lawrence felt. "As soon as Nisha bit it in Lynchwood, you stopped movin'. It was the only reason why we were able to bring you back, dude."

Lawrence punched a hole through the screen, and Eg booted up another console so that he could pick up where he left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	66. Chapter 66

"You need rest, darlin'. You've been at this for an entire day now."

Lawrence blinked blearily at the video in front of him. Timothy was lying on the same table he'd been strapped to for five days now, steadily being pumped full of Eridium while Dr. Strife and Dr. Samuels watched and took notes.

"I don't need sleep," he said.

"No, but you need rest." Axton paused the video and gently pried him away from the console. "Eg and Hale found a break room down the hall. There's a couch and chairs and shit you can relax on for an hour or two. There's even a brew maker that still works."

Lawrence frowned in reluctance. "The sooner I get my answers, the sooner I'll be able to move on. The sooner we can, y'know." He felt the back of his neck turning red. "Be together, or whatever."

"I know," Axton said, offering him a small smile. "But you won't find anythin’ if you're starin' at the back of your eyelids. You can take an hour to just chill."

Giving in, Lawrence made his way to the break room in question, only to pause by the closed door when he heard some interesting noises coming from inside. He put his ear against the door and - whoa, yep, there was definitely some hanky panky going on in there. Lawrence backpedaled so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.

He could have used that as an excuse to return to the research room, but his feet took him in the opposite direction, further down the hallway until the wall on his right gave way to cracked observation windows that overlooked an abandoned, overgrown pen. Fresh air streamed in from where a window had shattered completely. He moved to stand by it, leaning against the rail and breathing in deeply. When he exhaled, he realized abruptly just how exhausted he was. Watching videos for hours on end shouldn't leave him feeling so drained, but it wasn't just a physical thing. Mentally, he was ready to snap and start screaming.

Not now, though. He was saving all of his pent-up rage and sadness for later when he was tearing this place down brick by brick.

Lawrence wasn't sure how long he stood there when Axton came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his torso. He placed his lips against the nape of Lawrence's neck, simply resting them there, and Lawrence finally allowed himself to relax a little. He shut his eyes and leaned against the commando, sighing with relief.

"There's a place up north. A tropical resort called Wam Bam Island. I know," Axton said, snickering at the look Lawrence shot him from over his shoulder. "I didn't pick the name. But it's beautiful there. Crystal clear waters, sun-warmed sand. Some of the local pirates are a pain in the ass, but they keep things from gettin’ too borin’."

Lawrence could hardly envision such a nice place on Pandora. "It sounds amazing," he admitted, smiling.

"I wanna bring you there, after this," Axton said softly. "We'll take a vacation. Just you, me, maybe Johnny and Gaige if they behave - "

"Johnny?"

"Oh, the kid," Axton said, moving to stand next to Lawrence while cracking a grin. "Remember him?"

Lawrence blinked at him, astounded. "He's...still alive? I thought Dr. Zed said he only had a few more months because his innards were messed up." He paused. "'Johnny'?"

"Nope! Little dude's still hangin' on," Axton said almost proudly. "Growin' like a weed. Gaige has to design him a new leg every couple of weeks 'cos he outgrows 'em so fast."

"But 'Johnny'?"

Axton shrugged. "He picked it. It ain't so bad."

"A little too close for comfort," Lawrence muttered.

"John was who Jack was before he became Jack," Axton pointed out. "The guy who loved his wife and daughter and worked hard to support them. Or did Angel lie to you when she said that to you?"

"Angel never lied to me," Lawrence said without hesitation. She might have been working for the bad guy the whole time, but it wasn't like Lawrence had ever asked her if she was. He had assumed and, well, everyone knew what happened when you assumed.

"Right. I suggested John to him, and it quickly turned into Johnny." Axton grinned. "Be grateful that's as bad as it got. Gaige wanted to name him Krieg Junior."

That startled a laugh out of Lawrence. "Why doesn't that surprise me? Johnny Krieg. That kind of has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Yeah it does. Johnny Krieg." Axton rubbed his scruff and barked out a laugh. "Ha, shit, it really does! All right, it's official. Gaige'll be happy to hear that we've taken her suggestion into consideration."

Lawrence hummed. "Speaking of Gaige, have you told the others that you found me yet?"

"Nah. I figured the last thing you need right now is everyone in Sanctuary flocking to see you here. I'm bad enough, right?" He was teasing, but Lawrence still detected the note of hurt in his tone.

Lawrence reached out and took Axton by the lapels of his uniform, pulling him until they were chest-to-chest. "I am happy to see you," he said quietly. "Even if you are in serious need of a haircut and shave."

Axton sputtered out a laugh. "Aw, what? I thought you'd dig the rugged explorer look!"

"I do," Lawrence assured him, patting him on the fuzzy cheek. "You're very handsome. But the beard-hairs in my mouth whenever we kiss are kinda a turn off."

"Fair 'nough."

They stood practically nose-to-nose for a moment. Lawrence tilted his head, eyes half-lidded and a small smile on his lips as he went in for a kiss, but then Axton pulled back and began to walk down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Lawrence practically whined in confusion.

"To shave," the commando said, turning to grin at him over his shoulder. "I wanna kiss you."

Lawrence huffed and opened his arms. "I can deal with a few beard hairs for now," he groused. "C'mere, asshole."

Giggling like an impish schoolboy, Axton slowly made his way back to Lawrence and went to grab him in a hug, but at the last second decided to duck down and scoop Lawrence right off the ground by his thighs.

"Nonono!" Lawrence squealed, briefly thrashing before his limbs locked up and left him coiled around Axton's shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Don't drop me, don't drop me - "

"I didn't the last time I grabbed you like this," Axton reminded him cheerfully as he began to walk down the hallway. That had been so long ago, Lawrence realized. "Besides, even if I did, you can heal any boo-boos you might get from falling three feet."

Lawrence hissed and buried his teeth into Axton's shoulder, barely making it past the thick leather of his coat. Axton squealed nonetheless and made as if to drop Lawrence, which only made him shriek and cling harder. He was so preoccupied with attempting to stay on the commando's shoulders that he didn't notice that they had reached their destination: an old infirmary, hardly wide enough for the two beds and the desk that sat inside collecting dust.

Axton dumped him on one of the stale beds. Lawrence huffed as a cloud of dust erupted around him, but otherwise remained flat as Axton moved around the room. "You honestly want me to rest in here?" he asked with a cough for punctuation. "I'll suffocate in my sleep under the forty layers of dust."

"Oh, you're not gonna sleep," Axton promised him as he rummaged around in one of the cabinets just out of sight. He found whatever he was looking for and came back, wielding a perverted grin and a small, sealed jar of vaseline. "One hour is all I need, darlin’."

Lawrence sputtered out a laugh as he took the jar. He cracked it open and inspected it. Still good, if the commando’s growing grin was any indication. "Are you serious? You wanna do that here, in a dirty-ass Hyperion infirmary?"

"You said 'next time'." Axton was already undoing his belt with shaking hands. "Well, it's next time. I wanna be in you, Law."

Lawrence let out a heavy breath when he realized just how serious the commando was. In a matter of seconds, the guy was naked as the day he was born and nudging his way between Lawrence’s legs.

"Christ, Ax - " he choked out right before a scorching kiss from Axton turned his words into groans.

Axton eventually pulled back to pop the button on Lawrence's pants. Lawrence was already swelling with excitement when the commando took him into his mouth; it didn't take long for his cock to stand proudly at attention while Axton continued to ravish it with his skilled tongue. Lawrence was so distracted by what was happening to his crotch that he almost didn't notice that Axton's other hand had disappeared, reaching under his heavy balls to - to - oh, fuck.

Lawrence lasted maybe all of a minute with Axton’s fingers inside him and his mouth on his cock before he was grabbing Axton by his hair, urging him off. "If you don't stop that right now, you're gonna be super disappointed," he warned through gritted teeth. “I’m good, get on with it.”

Axton pulled off with a lewd pop and smirked. "Yes, sir," he said, then turned around to snag the vaseline off the table.

Lawrence couldn't help but sit up to give the man's ass a generous slap, relishing the way the flesh jiggled. "The ass of a god," he breathed, licking his lips. "There's only one thing I love more than your ass."

"My mouth?" Axton guessed as he slathered a generous amount of lubricant over his flushed cock.

"Your thighs."

Axton huffed out a low laugh as he lined himself up, teasing the head of his cock along Lawrence’s perineum. "Seriously?"

"Have you _seen_ your thighs? You're the only one I know who can make standard issue Dahl uniforms look - look - "

Words turned into garbled, nonsensical noises as Axton pushed inside him inch by glorious inch. The commando hadn't spent much time prepping Lawrence, but the Eridium in his blood turned the mild burning in his ass into a mere annoyance as he was stretched. Lawrence was glad it didn't mute the whole experience; the stretch and sensation of being filled was what really got his engine revving. 

Lawrence coiled his legs around Axton as he finally became fully seated inside him. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as Axton moved a little, overwhelmed very quickly by the feeling of Axton inside him. He never thought he’d feel it again.

"Missed this, missed you," Axton was muttering as he began to thrust in earnest. "Fuck, _fuck_ -"

"Lawrence?" The door to the infirmary slammed open, revealing a rumpled, panic-stricken Eg and a half-naked Hale looming behind him. "We heard you screaming and couldn't find you in the research room! Are you all right?"

"I think they're fine," Hale muttered.

Eg blinked and noticed for the first time just what they'd burst in on. By then Axton had already dislodged himself, unabashed in his nudity but still royally pissed off at being interrupted. Lawrence, on the other hand, was in the process of wrapping himself up in those musty old sheets he had been complaining about literally minutes ago.

"O-oh," Eg stuttered, giggling nervously as he raised one hand to cover his eyes. "S-sorry. I thought there was trouble."

"We appreciate your concern," Lawrence assured them. "But - "

"But we'd appreciate it more if you'd piss off and let us finish," Axton finished, earning a glare from Lawrence. "What? _They_ got to!"

"Actually, we got distracted by Lawrence screaming," Hale pointed out. "So technically nobody finished and it’s all your fault."

"Just get out!"

The kids made a hasty retreat, giggling and slamming the door as they fled. Axton immediately launched himself back into Lawrence's space to pick up where he left off, and Lawrence couldn't have stopped him even if he wanted to.

Afterward, when Axton had collapsed against Lawrence's chest and now lay heaving on top of him, Lawrence kissed his head and rolled them over so that they were lying on their sides, with Lawrence as the big spoon. Lawrence would have been content to lie with Axton for a while, but the research room was calling to him.

He carefully wiggled away from the commando, trying not to wake him. His movement made Axton stir, but sleep claimed him easily once Lawrence was off the cot. Lawrence studied the man's face and noticed for the first time the bags under his eyes, his furrowed brow even in his sleep. Pangs of regret jabbed him in the ribs like icicles. He regretted leaving the way he did. He regretted so many things.

Draping his jacket over Axton's body in lieu of the dirty sheets, Lawrence retreated back to the research room to continue where he left off.

~

"This is Dr. Strife," Strife began through an exhausted sigh. Lawrence noted that with each video log the scientist did, he looked more and more haggard. Six logs and four months into Timothy's torture, Strife looked ready to fall apart. "ID: 574-34. Not much to report. We've increased the dose of Eridium to subject code-named Timothy Lawrence and he's taken it well, all things considered."

Lawrence's brow furrowed. There was always something new happening whenever Dr. Strife made his logs. An increase in dosage was no big deal, especially at this stage. Timothy was looking more and more like how Lawrence looked right now.

Strife sat there for a while, slumped in his desk chair and staring through the keyboard in front of him. Eventually, he continued, voice flat and without emotion.

"He spoke to me," he admitted. "For one second, right after we turned the machine off for the day, he blinked and looked straight at me. Begged me to help him. Just one quiet little 'please' before the collar kicked in and shut him up. I can't..." Strife buried his face in his hands and let out a shuddering sigh. "It was one thing having to do this kind of horrid stuff on Pandoran wildlife. But _people_? I know - I know Handsome Jack's blackmailed and threatened everyone in the facility into doing his bidding, but I have no one. Nothing to lose."

When the scientist pulled his hands away from his face, there was a strange look in his eyes. Wild, almost, with a heavy determination mixed in.

"I have nothing to lose," he said again, reaching to turn off the camera.

Lawrence stared at the blank screen for a second, heart hammering wildly in his chest, before hastily bringing up the next video, this one from the security camera. He skipped around the video, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but there was nothing in the clip, nor the one after it. He was skimming through the third clip when Eg stumbled into the room, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Anything?" he slurred through a yawn.

"Possibly. Dr. Strife just had a breakdown. I think he's going to try something, but I haven't found anything in the videos yet."

At Lawrence's words, Eg became more awake and hurried to peer over Lawrence's shoulder. "What kind of a breakdown?"

"I think he might try to help Timothy. I mean, me," he said, flicking through the rest of the video. "Nothing in this clip either. Shit."

"Wait, look." Eg pointed at one of the video files. "This is labeled as a security feed video file, but it's only ten minutes long."

Lawrence was already clicking on it. Sure enough, the video cut out mere seconds after Dr. Strife looked up at the lens with a blank expression, then moved out of sight to his computer.

"He cut the feed. He was going to try something - "

"Go to the next video!" Eg squealed, slapping him on the shoulder.

Lawrence did so with trembling fingers. It was another video log, this one significantly shorter than the rest. When Strife's face filled the screen, that strange look was back - the wide-eyed mania that only came from a person about to attempt something extremely dangerous.

"Dr. Strife," the man began, voice a deep rumble. "This will probably be my last recording. I'll either be dead come morning or strapped to a table. Either way, I hope my plan works. My plan. This is my idea. No one else's." He took a deep breath. "This is Dr. Strife, signing off, for the last time."

As Strife spoke his farewells, Axton and Hale appeared in the doorway, similarly disheveled and quietly bitching to each other about their similar aches and pains. Eg shushed them and beckoned them closer; when they realized what they were looking at, all signs of sleep left them.

Strife didn't bother shutting off the camera for his video log as he rose to his feet. He went straight over to Timothy and began to unbuckle his bindings. One by one his limbs were freed. The tubes attached to his collar were the last to be removed. Timothy didn't make a sound the entire time, even as Strife began to manhandle him into an upright position.

Of course, as luck would have it, the second Strife actually managed to get a grip on Timothy and begin to drag him towards the door, the damn thing burst open to reveal Jack and a handful of armed guards. Strife let out a choked noise and released Timothy, who crumpled to the cold ground like a marionette with its strings cut.

"Just in time!" Handsome Jack crowed gleefully, clapping his hands together. "That was a cute trick, disabling the security cameras."

"S-sir, I - "

Jack silence him with a series of rapid-fire tuts, as if Strife were a naughty child and not a grown man. "You - oh, were you seriously going to try to _talk_ your way out of this? Strife, buddy, did you forget you were recording those video logs for me? Damn, you know, for a genius, you really aren't that smart, are ya?"

Strife was breathing heavily now. From the camera angle, Lawrence couldn't see his expression, but he didn't need to. The man had been caught red-handed; no amount of talking would save his skin now.

Jack turned his gaze onto Timothy, who had yet to move from his crumpled place on the floor. "Stand up, kiddo."

Timothy did so without hesitation. Despite his legs quaking from months of disuse, he managed to stay upright, which pleased the dictator.

"Good boy," he cooed. "Now, why don't you show your friend Dr. Strife here how good you are at following orders? Kill him.”

Strife stumbled backwards into the Eridium machine as Timothy slowly turned to face him. With an unexpected speed, Timothy dashed forward and seized him by his throat, turning his panicked cry into an awful, wheezing gasp. Strife's hands instantly flew up in a desperate attempt to pry Timothy's hands away from his neck, but Timothy's grip was as solid as steel.

Lawrence felt his heart try to leap out of his throat with each passing second the video clip ticked on. "Stop it," he gasped, grabbing the screen with both hands like that would somehow make his past self stop strangling the scientist.

It didn't, of course, but Jack eventually intervened just as Strife's face was turning gray. "Enough," he barked suddenly.

Timothy's hands fell to his sides, and Strife collapsed onto his knees, gasping and heaving.

"I've changed my mind," Jack continued as a nasty smile bloomed across his fake face. "Strangulation is too easy a death for someone who tries to steal something of mine. Guards, drag this skaglick to the nearest slag experimentation chamber. Strap him in good and tight, now! Wouldn't want him escaping before the real fun can begin."

Strife's expression crumbled into one of pure terror as he was hauled to his feet. He began to protest as he was dragged out the door, his hoarse voice only growing with shouts and screams as he disappeared down the hallway towards certain death.

"Well!" Handsome Jack began, turning back to Timothy. "I dunno about you, kid, but I'm gettin' real sick of this place. How about a change of scenery?"

Of course Timothy didn't reply.

"You remember Nisha, don't ya?" Jack put his arm around Timothy's shoulders and began to steer him out the door. "She's got this awesome place - Lynchwood, you remember? I think you're gonna have a lott'a fun there. Trust me."

The video ended a few seconds later, leaving the gang staring at a dark screen.

"Dr. Strife tried to save you," Eg whispered in the silence that followed.

"And he suffered for it." Lawrence sat back in the chair and released a heavy sigh. What a fucking surprise. Everyone he's ever gotten significantly close to over the years has suffered in some way because of him.

"You can't possibly blame yourself for this," Axton said quietly, apparently reading Lawrence's mind.

"No," Lawrence agreed quietly. "But it still sucks."

Eg wrapped his arms around Lawrence from behind him. "I'm so sorry, Lawrence."

Lawrence raised one hand to lay on one of Eg's arms. He said nothing, felt nothing.

That was the last video in the folder marked Timothy Lawrence. He now knew everything that had led up to him being shipped off to Lynchwood. It was upsetting. Traumatizing, degrading, frightening. And yet, he felt nothing now. Just a cold, burning sensation in his chest that pulsed and flickered like a flame in a breeze. Not at all what he'd thought he'd feel in response to knowing about these horrors.

He wanted relief. He wanted closure. But all he felt was nothing.

"We're done here," he said after a while. His voice was as flat as the emotion he felt. "No sense in staying longer than we have to."

Nobody protested getting the hell out of this place. It didn't take long for everything to get packed up considering that they hadn't really unpacked in the first place.

"Everybody got everything?" Lawrence asked, rising to his feet.

Eg cast a look at Hale and Axton, who were shouldering the last of their gear. "Looks like it. Where are we headed next?"

Lawrence came over to them, pushed their shoulders together so they were all touching, then teleported the whole lot of them back to Overlook. They appeared a few inches in midair but managed to land on their feet even in their confusion.

Axton figured it out first and lunged, grabbing Lawrence by his shoulders before he could flick back to the preserve. "Don't," he said.

"I have to," Lawrence told him.

Axton bit his lip and, with a great deal of effort, released his hold on the other man. "Be careful," he rasped, meeting Lawrence's gaze. He looked far older than he was, then, and it wasn't just because of his beard and shaggy hair. "Come back to me in one piece."

He sure as hell was going to try, but Lawrence couldn't absolutely promise him that. He removed his watch and slapped it into Axton's hand before he could protest. His hand lingered over the cold metal. Lawrence hated himself in that moment - hated himself for making promises he couldn't keep.

"Just in case," Lawrence told Axton, noticing his horrified look. "I don't want to melt them or anything."

"Lawrence," Eg cut in. He looked shaken and near tears. "What are you going to do?"

Lawrence offered the concerned kids a smile that didn't meet his eyes. "I'm going to erase the preserve off the face of the planet," he said. "Thank you for everything."

Eg gaped at him. "This isn't goodbye," he said, taking a step forward. His tone only grew more desperate when Lawrence failed to reassure him of this. "This isn't goodbye, Lawrence! You're going to destroy the preserve and come back to us, right? Lawrence - "

He flung himself away, unable to handle Eg's pleading and Axton's wounded, frightened looks. When he landed in the research room of the preserve, he didn't stop moving. He plunged his hands into his Eridium-filled pockets and finally, finally unleashed the storm.

~

Axton was in the process of climbing to the very top of the Hyperion outpost perched on the hill above Overlook when he felt it: electricity in the air carried on a harsh burst of wind - an impending storm from the south. Something about it was strange, though, and it spurned him to climb higher and faster so that he could catch a glimpse of the damn thing.

Finally, after several near-misses and slips, he gripped the edge of the radio tower and yanked himself up, only having enough space to kneel around the girth of the antenna rod that sat in the middle of the platform. The wind threatened to send him toppling, but he slung an arm around the antenna to steady himself while his other hand fumbled for the tiny pair of binoculars he always kept tucked away on his person.

Miles and miles away, past the rolling Highland hills, he could plainly see a swirling purple and white mass that extended all the way into the clouds. It sucked them down into its spinning vortex, turning them a sickening gray mass that pulsed with lightning and rumbled so loudly that Axton could feel it in his bones. Pandora had its share of big storms, but never anything like this. This wasn't natural. It filled his stomach with lead.

Later, after the storm dissipated and it was safe to approach the afflicted area, Axton made his way over to the newly-formed crater that now sat where the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve had been. It was massive - deep and already filling with water from the lake. After such a storm, one would think there would be debris lying around the rim of the crater, perhaps floating in the rising waters, but there was nothing.

Everything was gone.

Eg stumbled to his side, pale with shock. Hale stood a few feet away looking just as lost, his shotgun limp in his hands. Axton felt for the two kids. He knew Lawrence never meant for them to get pulled into any of this.

"He isn't here," Eg said, wide eyes on the crater. They hadn't spent much time looking. They knew there was no point. Everything was gone.

The comm in Axton's ear crackled with Lilith's voice. "Axton," she barked, "we got a weird energy spike on radar about half an hour ago, coming from the wildlife preserve. It was massive. You're out that way, right? Do you know what happened?"

Axton blinked. "Lawrence."

Silence met his ears for a brief moment. "Lawrence?" she repeated in disbelief. "What was he - is he there now?"

"No," he replied as his chest began to ache. "He's gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	67. Chapter 67

When Axton had mentioned Wam Bam Island for the first time, Lawrence had simultaneously wrinkled his nose at the ridiculous name and swooned over the idea of taking up residence in such a beautiful-sounding place. Eden's oceans and lakes were far from his little hick town, so he had never really gotten to experience the beach life as well as he wanted to. All the movies and TV shows had made them seem like mythical paradises for the rich and famous.

Now, as he stood wiggling his toes in the sun-warmed sand and gazing out at the island-spotted ocean that stretched out for miles before him, he could definitely see the appeal of it.

Though weather didn't affect him in the slightest, he could still enjoy the warmth of the sun on his freckled, swirl-dotted shoulders and the salty breeze ruffling through his curls. He had shed most of his heavier clothing and now strolled the island's beach in nothing more than a tank top and rolled up cargo pants that may have had a few shards of Eridium stuffed in the pockets - not that he anticipated needing them, but better safe than sorry.

A few minutes later, he found Axton crouched in the ankle-deep waters near the abandoned hotels, a bucket in one hand while the other was digging around in the sand for clams. A shirt decorated with a hideous flower pattern hung open on his shoulders, flapping gently in the breeze. Lawrence had never seen him in shorts and flipflops before, but he had to admit that the beach bum look absolutely suited the commando.

The man dumped a few more clams into the bucket before he straightened up, pausing to lift a hand to his back as it strained with the effort of moving. Then he turned around, a frown on his tanned, handsome face, before he glance up and saw Lawrence standing a few yards away.

The bucket fell from his hands and made a loud noise as it hit the water.

Lawrence wasn't sure what kind of reaction he would get from the man. Maybe something sappy like in the movies, where they'd run towards each other on the beach and collide in a mess of tears and desperate, grasping hands. Maybe a spiteful look, a flip of the bird, possibly even a mouthful of hurtful words hurled his way.

Certainly not Axton rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands, then him scooping the bucket out of the water and turning away like he hadn't just seen his lover standing there.

Panic jabbed Lawrence between his ribs. "Axton," he blurted, taking several steps forward.

That made him freeze in his tracks. This time, when Axton turned to face him, there was a strange look on his face. His expression was tight, his eyes wide, making it impossible for Lawrence to tell just what the hell the commando was thinking.

Axton dropped the bucket again and marched towards Lawrence. He braced himself for a punch as soon as Axton was within range, but all he did was bend low and send an armful of ocean water flying into Lawrence's face.

He sputtered and choked, more startled than anything else. He nearly asked, "What was that for?" but bit his tongue. He deserved much more than a mouthful of salt water.

Axton stood ramrod straight before him. His hands were clenched into shaking fists at his sides, and his lips were a thin, pale line. "Bullshit," he grumbled, withdrawing again. "This better stop happenin'."

Lawrence didn't have a clue what he meant by that. "It's me," he assured the other man gently, reaching towards him. Axton flinched, pained, but Lawrence kept pushing forward until his hand found the side of Axton's face.

The touch seemed to do the trick. A strangled noise escaped the commando as he simultaneously pulled away and lifted his hand to keep Lawrence's palm in place against his stubbly cheek. "How - why - " he blabbered.

"I'm so sorry," Lawrence said, and suddenly his vision was misting up with tears. Seeing Axton looking at him like this - it hurt worse than anything. "I didn't mean to hurt you - "

"Where _were_ you? Fuckin' shit, dude, it's been - "

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Lawrence assured him, practically begging. He resisted the urge to fall to his knees, but he did slouch over with shame and bow his head. "When I destroyed the preserve, I-I lost control of myself and...died."

Axton's eyebrows shot up high on his head as a whole new look of horror fell on him. "You - you really - what the _fuck_ \- "

"Obviously, I'm fine now!" Lawrence said quickly, gesturing to himself. "Thanks to some old friends. But it took a while to get me there. Turns out bringing someone back from the dead takes a long time and a lot of effort. Who knew?"

His joke fell flat. Axton stared through him, clearly in some sort of shock. Lawrence couldn't blame him; learning that your paramour had essentially died and come back to life would probably do that to any semi-sane individual.

"Say something," he begged after the silence got too deafening.

Axton shut his eyes and hissed through his teeth. "What the hell am I even supposed to say in response to that? I thought you were dead, you prick! And you _were_! But now you're here and I don't even...!" He cut himself off with a snarl as he turned away and dragged his hands through his hair.

Lawrence remained silent as the commando fumed. He couldn't fault him for being angry. It hurt to hear him so upset, knowing that it’s all Lawrence’s fault.

“What happened?” Axton finally asked. When he finally turned back around, his expression had leveled out, moving from furious to irritated.

“It’s...well, it’s not really a long story,” he replied. “Just...hard to explain in places.”

Axton’s lips twisted with a frown. For a moment he turned away from Lawrence, his gaze on a distant point on the horizon. There was no doubt he was weighing the pros and cons of allowing Lawrence back into his life once more. He evidently decided to hell with it as he turned back to Lawrence and said, "Do you, uh, wanna come in? Tell me about it, stay awhile?"

He would like to stay forever, if the man would have him. But he was lucky enough for any invitation at all, so he accepted it with a crooked, grateful smile that made Axton frown and duck his head.

Lawrence followed him into his house - a quaint, two-story shack along the main boardwalk of town. The front door led into the small yet well-stocked kitchen, and beyond that was a living room with a few worn, comfy looking chairs and a couch. The staircase to the bedrooms upstairs was to the left of the living room. The whole place was modestly decorated, and a few weapons hung on the walls - well out of Johnny's reach should he ever be inclined to try to use one. The kid was smarter than that, though, and he had his own toys and gadgets to play with, if the random riffraff strewn about the rooms were any indication.

"Cozy," Lawrence said as Axton moved towards the refrigerator. "You've been here a while?"

"Long enough to stock the fridge." Axton pulled open the door on the moderately-sized machine, revealing containers and packages of food, some bought, some harvested with his own two hands. "Most of it's seafood, but luckily Johnny inhales most of it."

Lawrence hummed and gingerly lowered himself into one of the two chairs lining the small, probably handmade table just beneath the lone window. He watched Axton move about the kitchen at an easy pace. He snagged a bag of coffee out of one of the cabinets and got to work putting it into the machine perched next to the sink.

“How’d you know to find me here? Did you visit Sanctuary first?” Axton asked after a while.

“This isn’t the first time I had stopped by the island,” Lawrence admitted, only to flinch when Axton jerked his head around to send him a heated glare. “I - it’s not - will you let me explain before unleashing verbal hell on me, please?”

“I’ve been waitin’ for you to start talkin’ since I invited you in, ass,” Axton groused, turning back to the coffee machine.

Lawrence sighed. “Okay. Well, like I said earlier: I died. I was floating around in the middle of nothing...until suddenly I wasn’t.”

~

The room Lawrence found himself in was fairly normal in Pandoran terms: shoddy, saggy ceiling, walls welded together from random scraps of metal. The bed he was on felt as uncomfortable as they came, and the blanket draped across his bare chest was itchy and frayed on the edges.

"The fuck," he said, then groaned through his teeth as it all came rushing back to him: the utter agony of burning alive from the inside out as he lost control of his anger. He had been light and fire and fury and hatred stuffed into one fragile body - a body that had been breaking down, snapping off in pieces and swirling around him with the rest of the storm he had created, carried off until the very same power that ripped it clean reined it back in. Over and over he dissolved into nothingness, only to come surging back whole and new until he was broken down once more.

He remembered wanting many things then. He wanted to reach into the sky and tear Helios down piece by piece, innocent people be damned. He wanted to do the same thing to Sanctuary, to the people that got to Handsome Jack before he could. He wanted to bring that bastard back just to tear into him bit by bit, to give him a small taste of what he had put Lawrence through.

But the most that had happened before his body gave out one last time was erase the place of his torture off the face of the planet.

And now he was here - wherever here was. His mysterious location wasn’t what bugged him, however. Lawrence was pretty sure he’d accidentally gone supernova, and yet he didn't sound like he'd been dead for an untold amount of time. Didn't feel like it, either, now that he thought about it. It was like he'd just woken from a quick nap - a little drowsy, maybe, but otherwise pretty good.

He lifted his arm to stare at it. Still tinged with swirling purple, same as it had been before his literal meltdown. He used his other hand to pat himself down while he wiggled his toes and moved his head side to side. The familiar thrumming of power behind his ribs was constant - not too weak, but not attempting to burst out of him, either. Everything was in working order, he concluded, stunned.

He was all right, he realized. But hadn’t he died? He had a vague memory of floating around in a sea of nothingness after he’d destroyed himself. Had that just been some sort of twisted, horrible nightmare?

Beyond confused now, Lawrence picked his head up to cast a quick glance around the rest of the room. It was pretty threadbare save for an old desk in the corner and an empty safe in the other corner by the closed door. No windows, no other way to get out should he actually be in enemy territory. For all he knew, this was a prison cell in one of the Hyperion outposts that littered the planet.

As paranoid as he was, Lawrence kind of doubted that was the case when he caught sight of a man sitting on the edge of the bed. The man's head was tilted up and cocked at an angle, like a dog listening to a strange noise for the first time. He didn't react as Lawrence shifted out of bed to get a better look at him, nor did he so much as blink when Lawrence cleared his throat and waved a hand in front of his wide, vacant eyes.

"Don't mind Reed," said a woman's voice from the doorway.

Startled, Lawrence whirled around to stare at the tall, dark-skinned woman standing in the threshold. She looked relatively normal, but there was definitely something off about her that was making the hair on his arms stand on end. "Who are you? Where am I?" he asked cautiously.

She cocked her head at him, sending her wiry, gravity-defying hair bouncing. "Which question do you want me to answer first, baby?" she teased, smirking at him.

"Uh - tell me who you are, I guess."

"Waverly Best," the woman answered, rolling her shoulders back. Axton used to do something similar whenever he was introduced to someone - a habit leftover from his military days. Judging by the metal chevrons in her brow, she was also Dahl.

Waverly sounded familiar, and now that he'd heard her name, something started tickling the back of Lawrence's brain. The fact that she was clearly military made it all come together in a dizzying rush. " _Corporal_ Best?" he tentatively asked. "Of...the Lost Legion?"

Waverly's jaw dropped. "I - yes," she said. "Though I haven't held that title for a while now. How did you...?”

Lawrence took a half-step back, now on edge. “W-we found your ECHOs in the Eleseer. You're not with the Watcher, are you? 'Cos I told that asshole before I wasn't coming back to Elpis - "

Waverly threw her hands up. "No, no, definitely not with that prick," she assured him, practically spitting at the very thought. "It would have tried to drag us back to Elpis by now, too. You're safe here with us, I promise."

"Promises don't mean much on Pandora," Lawrence told her, wilting at his own words. The few he'd made had fallen flat in the end. That aside, he didn't know a goddamned thing about this woman.

"I suppose not. But if we wanted you dead, why would we have bothered to put you back together again after you already died once?"

Lawrence stared at her for a long, tense minute. "I...I really did die?" he rasped, feeling nauseous.

Waverly bit her lip. "Ah, right. Maybe you should come sit down with me in the next room and we can, uh, talk."

He followed her through the doorway, stumbling over his own two feet. It shouldn't have disturbed him to hear that he'd really died, not after that weird time frame of floating through nothing, but it did. It made him want to scream and cry and vomit. He hadn't meant to go that far. He just wanted to destroy the preserve, but all the anger and pain just - just tore out of him, tore through him, eradicated not only the preserve but himself as well. He couldn't stop it, and he had paid for it with his life.

Which he somehow, miraculously, had back now.

The other room was laid out like a living room, with an old couch and a few chairs scattered around a propped up coffee table. A huge, hulking blond, also a Dahl soldier, sat in one of the chairs reading an old book; it astonished Lawrence that the rickety old thing hadn't collapsed under the other man's weight.

"This is Illya," Waverly said, gesturing to the huge man as he stood up. He towered easily over Lawrence, and when they shook hands, his grip was tight enough to make the bones in Lawrence's hand creak in protest.

"Good to see you again, Lawrence," Illya slurred through a heavy accent. Whether or not he meant it was beyond Lawrence; the expression on the man's strikingly handsome face seemed to be stuck on neutral.

Illya's words brought confusion that was quickly swallowed by realization as it slapped Lawrence across the face. "You - you guys were the soldiers Jack was torturing on Helios," he blurted, whirling on Waverly. "You guys saved my life after Wilhelm shot me. Holy _shit_...!"

He never in a million years thought he’d see these people again, never mind actually looking human and normal. Had they found a way to get rid of the Eridium in their blood? Where have they been until now? Why did they save him again? So many questions, too much shock and surprise seizing his system to actually spit any of them out.

"You saved our lives first," Waverly reminded him gently, smiling as she took a seat on the couch. Lawrence shakily plunked himself into the nearest chair as she continued. "When you got us out of there, you also woke us up. Like nearly all of the rest of the Legion, our minds were not our own. I dunno, I guess your kindness made us remember what it was like to be human."

"That or shocks," Illya muttered, obviously in reference to the torture Jack had been subjecting them to before Lawrence came along.

Waverly rolled her eyes. "Whatever the case, we got outta there, away from everyone and everything, and set up base here where we could keep an eye on you."

Lawrence squinted at her. Half of what she said didn't make sense. "Keep an eye on me? How?" _Why_ would have been a better question. These people owed him nothing as far as he was concerned.

Waverly sobered and nodded back towards Reed, who hadn't budged an inch from his trance-like state in the other room. "Illya and I were able to claw our way out of the hive mind without too much hassle, but Reed...got stuck."

"Stuck?"

"Is in between," Illya supplied, gesturing with a massive hand towards the sky. "Here but not here, most days. We have his body, but his mind is...away."

Lawrence frowned. "There's no way to snap him out of it?"

"It depends on how far he's gone. He has his good days. Few and far between, but I suppose we should be glad he can escape at all," Waverly said, shrugging. "Besides, if he didn't have one ear to the hive, we wouldn't have known where to find you after you left Helios. The Watcher found you and promised the hive that the time was coming for war. Word spread throughout the ranks, and Reed heard it. Though, in the end, you didn't need our help. You killed the Watcher and broke free from the hive on your own accord.” She winked and flashed him a thumbs up. “Good job with that, by the way.”

Illya hummed, nodding in agreement. “Bastard had it coming."

Lawrence swallowed hard, dizzy and swaying a little. "Did Reed help you find me this time?" he asked.

"Oh no, we could have felt that power surge from the moon." Waverly glanced down at her lap. "But by the time we got to you, it was too late."

"But then how...?" Lawrence gestured to himself.

"Found tiny piece of you." Illya held up his thumb and index finger, revealing only a sliver of space between them. "Took long time to bring rest of you back."

Lawrence envisioned them finding a tiny scrap of his skin or a tooth or something just as disturbing and couldn't help the shudder that shook his shoulders. "How long is a 'long time'?" he rasped, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer, even if it had only been a few days or weeks.

"Mm." Illya shrugged, totally nonchalant. "Two years."

Lawrence felt his stomach drop out of his ass. "Two years?" he repeated. "I've been dead for _two years_?"

"Da, give or take - _nyet_ , not on rug!"

Lawrence's stomach got yanked back into him so hard that he vomited all over his feet and the green and yellow rug they were planted on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention with Friday's update that the preserve arc is officially over! We're now on the final arc of the story.
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	68. Chapter 68

Lawrence sat slouched in one of the old plastic chairs on the front porch of Waverly's house, observing. The soldiers' safe house was located on the other side of Pandora, away from Helios, halfway up a mountain in a portion that supposedly no one had set foot in. It surely must have been the case; Lawrence doubted a place as lush as this would go undisturbed for this long if people knew it existed. The cabin was set near the top of a ridge, surrounded on all sides by miles of miles of honest-to-goodness trees and foliage.

But as beautiful as the green and brow canyon was below him, it didn't help calm the pounding in his ears or the throbbing in his chest. He was sick, he was scared, and no amount of calm discussion with Waverly or Illya seemed to help any.

Two whole years. It took _two years_ for them to rebuild his body, stuff the little scrap of his consciousness or whatever back inside it, and cultivate it until he fully returned from - from wherever the hell he’d been.

It was his own damn fault for dying in the first place, he knew. He only had himself to be mad at - and _god_ , was he mad.

"Hello, Lawrence."

Withdrawing from his morbid thoughts, he glanced up to find Reed standing next to him. The young man looked exhausted; there were dark circles under his eyes and he was extremely pale, but the smile on his face made up for it.

"Reed," Lawrence greeted, rising to shake the soldier's cold hand. He glanced down and couldn't help the small smirk. "Is this the one I cut off?"

Reed chuckled. "Yes," he said. "Thanks for that, by the way. And I don't say that sarcastically."

"I should be thanking you. You've saved me, what, twice now?"

"I'm not keeping track." Reed shrugged stiffly. "Waverly told me what happened inside."

Lawrence winced. "Is Illya still upset about the rug? I apologized, but finding out you've been dead for two years'll do that to you."

"It was hideous anyway. The vomit probably did it some good."

Lawrence chuckled. He glanced over at the other man, noting his bare arms, his normal hands. Lawrence wondered if he could feel things with them.

"You guys look so normal," he said quietly. He remembered how utterly ethereal they had looked after he'd freed them from their bindings, how they had slowed time down in order to heal him with their glowing hands. They were anything but human then. Now they sat inside a normal-looking house, in civilian clothes, sipping stale coffee and reading paperback books held together by rubber bands.

"Well, we are technically in hiding," Reed pointed out gently. "We had to blend in somehow, even if it's just with the trees."

"So you can just - look like that? How you were before?" Envy bit into Lawrence like a skag's teeth. How much simpler his life would have been if that had been an option for him. The shame, the pain of just having people look at his strange markings and purple-gray skin - he could have escaped that.

"You can't?" Reed asked, tilting his head.

"I don't know a goddamned thing about these powers," he snapped, finally losing his temper. "I thought I could control them, but clearly I was wrong! I've hurt innocent people and fuckin' killed myself because I don't know shit!"

"Would you like to?"

Lawrence snapped his mouth shut and regarded the other man for a long moment. If anyone was going to be able to teach him a thing or two about using his powers, it was only logical it should be the dudes he was modeled after, right? And - and if he learned how to control himself, he could go back to living in society without stigma. He and Axton could...

The thought of the commando made his heart hurt, as lame as that sounded. Hope drained out of him as he slumped back into his chair and covered his eyes with one hand.

"Doesn't matter," he said. It had been two years. He had told Axton not to wait for him. He had probably moved on by now, no doubt thinking Lawrence truly dead and gone after all this time - which, in reality, had been a fact up until, like, three hours ago. Lawrence would have tried to do the same had he been in the commando's shoes.

Tears burned his eyes. For the first time in a while, he felt truly alone.

"It still wouldn't hurt to learn," Reed pointed out gently. His voice had a strange soothing effect on Lawrence, like it had the time he'd been bleeding out on the torture chamber floor. "You're alive again. A lot of people would kill for a chance like this."

"Why me? Why not use your powers on someone who deserves it?"

"You do deserve it, Lawrence. And not just because you spared us Handsome Jack's wrath. There's a goodness in you. I can see it. Right here." Reed pointed at Lawrence's heart. The noise Lawrence let out was definitely not a whimper. "True goodness is such a rarity these days."

"Well, _that_ I can agree with." Lawrence sniffed and sent him a sideways glance. "Can I see what you really look like?"

Reed cast a quick look around at the deserted landscape. "I don't see why not," he said, rolling his shoulders back. "Close your eyes."

Lawrence snorted, but did as he was told. A blast of warmth slapped his cheeks, almost making him peek, but he squeezed his eyes shut and patiently waited another five seconds for Reed to finish up.

"Okay," Reed said, sounding as if he was speaking inside Lawrence's head.

He peeled open his eyes and swallowed hard at the sight of Reed's true self - the creature he'd released on Helios years ago. Reed, aglow with purple from his head to his toes, floated in midair courtesy of the large translucent tendrils streaming out of his shoulders. Curling marks rolled across all of his visible skin: up his arms, around his neck, across his cheeks. Lawrence wondered if he looked this godly when he was running at full power.

Unconsciously, Lawrence lowered himself onto his knees.

"There's no need for that," Reed told him gently. "I'm the same as you."

"No," Lawrence rasped. "You're...organic. Real. Some asshole pumped me full of toxic shit and molded me into some cheap, man-made knockoff."

Reed shook his head sadly. "Don’t romanticize what happened to us. None of us transitioned willingly. Colonel Zarpedon, maybe, but most of us just...accepted our fate. We were trapped with no food, no way off that goddamned rock. I remember..."

He sighed and descended. His wings flickered and faded away, leaving him halfway between human and...not. "There were so few of us left who hadn't given themselves over to the hive yet," he explained. "Our bodies had started changing, some faster than others, and we all just accepted it, like it was no big deal that we were losing our humanity. We should have been scared, should have fought harder to stay human. But something kept us complacent with promises of defending the universe, or some other righteous bullshit."

"The Watcher?"

"Yes. I was as loyal to Zarpedon as the next Lost Legion soldier, but I knew something about this was wrong. So did Waverly and Illya."

"But you still turned into this," Lawrence said, gesturing to all of him.

Reed nodded. "There was no stopping it. We all changed eventually, mentally and physically. But the three of us managed to return to ourselves thanks to you."

Lawrence frowned at him. "When I woke up, you were sitting on the edge of my bed staring up at the ceiling. Waverly said that you get...stuck. Between here and there."

The soldier began to fidget. "Yes, I...I can't seem to escape no matter how hard I try," he whispered, downcast. "It's come in handy, especially in regards to keeping track of the Watcher and the war, but..."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'm afraid this kind of thing doesn't run on a schedule. When it happens, it happens, and I'm stuck along for the ride." Reed's expression creased with pain as he hugged himself. "I wish I could escape forever. God, do I wish. It...it’s so dark, where the others are. Cold."

Suddenly Lawrence's woes and pains felt trivial. He reached out to squeeze Reed's arm. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Reed told him, forcing a smile onto his face. "If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be having a conversation at all. I'd still be with the rest of those poor sods on...on Elpis."

As he spoke, he turned his head to gaze up at the sky. Though Elpis couldn’t be seen from where they were on Pandora, the moon still found him. His words slurred, his posture became slouched. He might have even fallen over if Lawrence hadn't snatched him by his shoulders to steady him.

"Waverly!" he yelled, watching as Reed's expression dissolved, leaving him propping up an empty shell.

The corporal, flanked by Illya, appeared a second later, practically kicking the front door off its hinges in order to get to them. Waverly took one look at the situation and deflated.

"W-we were talking and - "

"It's fine," she said through a sigh. "It happens."

Illya scooped the shorter man into his arms. Though both men were built like tanks, Reed seemed so much smaller lying limp against Illya's broad chest, his arms and legs dangling like a doll with its strings cut. Illya toted him back into the bedroom and gently set him down on the bed. Waverly watched, thin-lipped, but otherwise not looking as panicked as Lawrence himself felt.

"That - that's fucked up," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "There's no way to snap him out of it permanently?"

"Not that we've found."

"Why aren't you and Illya like that? There's no way you were that touched by my kindness."

Waverly chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "My guess? We found something worth staying here for."

Lawrence wasn't stupid. Waverly and Illya had been giving each other the kinds of looks he and Axton used to toss at each other, though they were much more subtle about it. "Well, maybe that's what he needs," he said.

"He has it," Waverly snapped, shoving past him. "If he'd just realize it."

Lawrence stood in the doorway for a long time, thinking, until darkness began to fall and Waverly yelled at him to get his ass back inside.

~

The face that stared back at Lawrence through the mirror was one he hadn't seen in a long time. It wasn't Timothy. Lawrence was struggling to come to terms with the fact that he didn't remember what post-op Timothy looked like anymore, aside from a face full of freckles and a head of curly red hair.

His skin, albeit pale and still sporting the brand from Jack, showed no sign of the telltale swirls and gray-purple tint that came with having Eridium in his blood. A smattering of freckles danced across the bridge of his nose and the parts of his cheeks not torn up by the brand. He was still blind in his left eye. He was used to that pale, sightless orb at this point - everyone was - and he saw no sense in changing it now, even though he knew he probably could.

All of it was all an illusion, of course. He couldn't even begin to understand how it all worked. All he knew was that Waverly told him to sit his ass down in front of the mirror and focus his attention on using his powers to manipulate his facial features. Three frustrating hours later, Lawrence was watching his body shift before his very eyes.

"Is this permanent?" he asked, dragging his finger across the brand on his right cheek.

"As long as you want it to be," Waverly said from across the room. She was lounging on the couch with her feet kicked up onto the coffee table, clearly not paying any attention to him.

"Won't it drain my supply over time?"

"Supply?"

"Yeah. Like, whenever I do something huge with my powers, I wind up drained and weak and, well, practically human again, and need to absorb more Eridium to get back to...normal," he explained. He felt his features beginning to return to the way they truly were as he spoke. "Early on, when my friends didn't know what the hell was wrong with me, they put me in detox for a few days, until I was almost Eridium-free."

That got the ex-corporal's attention. "That's strange. We never seem to run out no matter how much we exert ourselves." She blinked, hummed thoughtfully, then went back to her book. "I guess that's one way of making sure we don't achieve some sort of god-tier status."

"What's stopping you guys?"

"Our offensive powers are limited and unique. I can summon these energy orbs to hurl at people. Illya can't do that. He has a more...hands-on approach, if you get what I mean."

It made sense - as much as any of this could make sense, anyway. The Watcher wouldn't want thousands of all-powerful soldiers running around, even if they were on its side. Because Lawrence was man-made, he was bound to have some flaws, too. It kept things in balance.

"I'd show you what I can do," Waverly continued, "but I'm comfortable and don't feel like getting up."

"I will fight," Illya spoke up from the bedroom. He and Waverly had been taking turns sitting with Reed since he'd been brought in a few days ago.

Lawrence swallowed hard at the hulking man. "I-I don't want to fight anyone," he said. "Just get a demonstration or something - "

"Da, or something." Illya was already up and moving towards the door. The glare he shot Lawrence indicated that he should probably keep up.

Illya led him around the back of the cabin, higher into the mountain, until they finally came upon a small clearing of tall grass and the occasional wildflower. Lawrence wasn't used to being around so much nature at one time and was so distracted by all the greens and browns that he didn't see Illya charging at him until the man's fist was burying itself in his gut.

Lawrence's flying body uprooted several trees and shrubs before finally coming to a messy stop several yards away from the clearing. A sizable boulder had a hand in stopping him from skidding farther across the bumpy earth, but did it leave him with a splitting headache - literally.

" _Why_ , though?" he whined as his body snapped back together almost as quickly as it had broken apart. By the time he was on his feet again, his bruises and cuts were gone, and the only part of him that stung was his feelings. "Is this about the rug? I apologized, so don't - "

But Illya was already in his face again, body ablaze with Eridium power. He yanked his fist back, and the last thing Lawrence saw before being flung through the woods yet again was the purple flames erupting from Illya's eyes. When Illya came at him a third time, Lawrence fought back. He threw up a shield around himself just as Illya came flying out of the woods; the larger man practically bounced off of it, unable to stop in time.

"Chill out!" Lawrence shrieked angrily, cowering within his transparent purple bubble. "I don't want to fight you, dude! Lay off!"

Illya tilted his head at him, his lip curling with the barest traces of disgust. "You were vault hunter. You know how to fight, da?"

"Questionable," Lawrence snapped. "Look, when I asked you guys to teach me how to do shit, I didn't mean _this_."

"What is it you want, then?"

"Honestly? I want to see my friends. I want to go home."

He thought about Axton and how fucked up his sudden departure must have left the man. He thought about Eg and Athena and Gaige and everyone he knew who cared about him. He ached to see them all again, to apologize and make things right, but...

"So go," Illya rumbled, gesturing to the rest of the word with a snap of his square chin. "You are not prisoner."

"I can't just pop back into their lives after being gone for two years," Lawrence muttered, shaking his head sadly. He remembered how Axton had mourned him after he had first vanished from Sanctuary; he would be a fool to assume the man hadn’t already done the same thing now after years of zero contact. 

"What is it you want, then?" Illya repeated.

Lawrence shrugged helplessly for a second. "You - you guys said you kept an eye on me after I left Helios, right? I never noticed you hovering around or anything like that."

Illya nodded. "Waverly calls it treading between worlds," he said. "Is appropriate name, I think. She can teach you after. Now, we fight."

Lawrence scowled. "Why do you want to fight so badly - _shit_ , dude!" He reared back as Illya slammed a massive fist down onto his shield, making it flicker. He felt a sharp tingling along his spine and instinctively threw his hands up to brace the orb against the giant's assault, keeping the thing from buckling.

Illya looked terrifying in what Lawrence assumed was his true form. His short-sleeved T-shirt allowed Lawrence to note the swirls streaking up his muscular arms - similar to the ones adorning his own skin, but different in design. The dude might as well have been a kraggon in humanoid form, what with the way he was spewing purple fire from his eyes and the gaps between his clenched teeth.

Gathering his own strength, Lawrence pushed himself up and simultaneously shoved his shield out and away from him, hurling Illya away in the same blast. The man landed gracefully on his feet, but otherwise remained stationary, shoulders heaving with rage.

"This is about Reed, isn't it?" Lawrence guessed, breathless. His knees were shaking a little from exhaustion. "You're upset about him, not me or that ugly-ass rug."

Illya snarled and took a step forward. "Is not ugly!"

"Dude, it's pretty ugly - " A punch to Lawrence's face left him with a mouthful of broken teeth and a dislocated jaw. He yelped as it snapped back into place and stood there with his hands clasped over his bloodied mouth, whining for the thirty seconds it took to regrow all the teeth that had been knocked out.

When he chanced a glance at the other man, he found Illya standing a foot away with his head low and his fists shaking at his sides. He was back to looking normal, his rage extinguished for the time being.

"Is not fair," he rasped. "Why couldn't he come with us? All of him?"

It wasn't anyone's fault, Lawrence knew, but he still felt some form of guilt. "I'm sorry," he said honestly.

The other man grunted. "Before we turned," he began, "before the moon cracked open and the Legion was abandoned, the three of us were...close. Waverly was commanding officer, so relationship not wise."

"But it happened anyway," Lawrence supplied.

Illya nodded. "After, yes. But we...I...is hard to put into words what three of us were. We all tried to resist Eridian influence. Were among the last to fully turn. When you woke us, we were so happy to be free - from Eleseer, from Dahl. Waverly and I found each other. But when we tried to find Reed, was too late. Elpis got to him first."

"Why don't you try to convince him to stay?"

"You think we have not tried? Kind words do nothing to keep him here."

"I mean, show him you want him to stay."

Illya squinted at him. "Show how?"

"Like, y'know. _Show_ him." Lawrence rolled his eyes at Illya's intense yet oblivious stare. "Kiss him, for fuck's sake! Make him aware of the the fact that both you and Waverly want him. Like, romantically. Carnally, even."

Illya's face ignited an interesting shade of red. "It can't be that simple," he muttered.

"Why not?"

The soldier opened his mouth to reply, but no words came forth. Eventually he shrugged. "Is worth shot," he admitted. "Nothing else has worked so far."

Lawrence cracked a grin. "That's the spirit."

~

“So you were off playing matchmaker all these months,” Axton cut in dryly. He didn’t look too angry anymore, but he wasn’t pleased, either.

“Sort of,” Lawrence admitted, scowling at him from where he sat across from him at the table. “Y’know, in between trying to master my powers so I could come back to you and not constantly worry about putting you in danger. Do you want me to continue or not?”

The commando huffed and waved him on. “Please. Just tell me this, though: is there a foursome? I’ll be disappointed if there ain’t, but I’ll downright hate you if there is and you don’t go into explicit detail.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Lawrence bit his lip, trying and failing not to smile. “Be patient and you’ll find out.”

Axton raised his cup of coffee to his lips in an effort to hide his own tiny grin. It made Lawrence’s chest pulse with warmth to see the commando’s cold exterior beginning to crack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	69. Chapter 69

Illya and Lawrence returned to the house just as the sun was setting on the valley below them. It was strange not seeing Helios or Elpis in the sky. Lawrence thought he'd be relieved to be out of their shadow - literally. Instead, his nerves sang with dread and anxiousness. Abruptly he became aware that as much as Helios kept an eye on him, he had been doing much the same to it.

Waverly was still on the couch immersed in her book and didn't look up as they came through the door. "Still in one piece, I see," she said, licking her thumb to turn the page.

"Only because I can heal myself at an alarming speed," Lawrence replied, dropping into the nearest chair. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and sent the woman a focused look. "Illya told me you can teach me to tread between worlds."

Waverly glared at him from over her book, then shot her beau an equally scathing look. The giant shrugged his shoulders and disappeared into the back room where Reed still lay.

"Look," Lawrence began tersely, "I want to see my friends. But I don't want them to see me, understand? Not yet. It wouldn't be fair - "

"I get it. I can teach you," she said, setting her book aside. "It's nowhere near as hard to do as it should be, honestly.”

Lawrence pursed his lips. "Is it like...astral projection, or something?"

"Sort of. Except it's all of you flitting from place to place, not just your mind."

"Sounds...dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as tearing yourself to shreds in a fit of rage," Waverly had the decency to point out. "Look, these abilities? They function on willpower. We can do incredible things if we want to. Granted, some of it is limited, but in the end, it all comes down to how far we're willing to push ourselves."

Lawrence frowned. It made sense, in a weird way that made him think that, in the end, it didn't make any sense at all. He didn't want to make an attempt to wrap his head around it, knowing that all it would do was give him a headache.

He got to his feet. "Okay," he said, rubbing his hands on his borrowed pants. "Show me how to do this."

Waverly stood as well and flashed him a toothy grin. "All right, well, first things first: lemme see your wings, baby."

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He blinked, and suddenly Waverly was gone, replaced by the glowing white creature he'd last seen on Helios right after Wilhelm had put a bullet between his ribs. She had no discernable features beyond the wide white orbs of her eyes. Strips of purple wound their way up and down her body like moving rivers, hypnotizing to watch.

Another blink, and then they were no longer standing in the living room of a small house located high in the mountains of an unknown location of Pandora. He was back in the vault on Elpis, or some place like it, surrounded on all sides by the blackness of space and strange, glowing symbols and constellations that hurt his eyes and made his head spin. Beneath his feet the swirling nothingness continued into a void that made him look away in utter terror.

Said terror nearly overwhelmed him, almost bringing him to his knees, but a familiar sensation of warmth swept over his nerves, soothing him. A glance past Waverly's ethereal form revealed why: Reed, also aglow from head to toe, leaning against an equally bright Illya, with his hand extended towards Lawrence.

"What's happening?" Lawrence asked.

"We are between worlds," Waverly answered like it was a simple concept. Her voice was smooth and sweet in his head, like whipped cream. "Come on, baby. Spread your wings with us."

As she spoke, great tendril-like wings unfolded from her spine - the very same kind that had once sprouted from Lawrence back in Lynchwood. Similar ones unfurled from Reed and Illya, just as impressive. Lawrence felt small and inadequate compared to these people - alone in a universe made up of giants.

"You are one of us," Reed assured him.

"I can't," he rasped. "S-seriously, I'm not just sayin' it to sound pathetic or whatever. I need more Eridium in my blood." He'd used up a lot of it defending himself from Illya’s wrath earlier. 

The trio exchanged blank looks before drifting closer to Lawrence. When they touched him, he felt like he was dying again, but only if dying felt like he was coming hard in his pants. Embarrassing noises were ripped from him without his consent, but he felt too good to care enough to stop more from spilling out.

"S-sorry, I - oh, god," he whined, arching against their palms. His hand coiled around someone's wrist, but he couldn't bring himself to wrench them away. "Wh-why does it feel so good?"

"Different reactions for different people," Reed supplied, sounding as if he was smirking behind the blank glowing mask that currently was his face. They pulled back, and Lawrence nearly whimpered at the loss. "Open your eyes, Lawrence."

He did, practically having to peel his eyelids open, and let out a choked noise for an entirely different reason when he caught sight of his arms. His tattoos were a searing white now as they coiled up his arms and across his torso. His clothes had somehow vanished upon his transport to this strange dimension, revealing skin as purple and vibrant as the trio of soldiers standing before him. He glanced over his shoulder and, sure enough, spotted familiar tendrils of light sprouting from his back. The sight of them didn’t frighten him so much now.

"Wh-what did you do to me?" he asked, turning back to his friends.

"Our supply of energy is endless," Waverly said, shrugging. "So we gave you pieces of ourselves to tide you over until you can find some of the mineral for yourself. A little bit goes a long way, apparently. Good to know."

Lawrence nodded distractedly, still staring at his arms as he turned his hands over. There was no point in even asking for a more elaborate explanation when he knew it wouldn't make any goddamned sense to him anyway.

"Now what?" he asked, finally looking up at his comrades. They didn't seem so unearthly and out of reach now that he was on their level.

"Now," Illya spread his wings, "we go."

The trio turned in unison to face what looked like a deep, bright gash just hovering midair among the stars. Through it, Lawrence could see clouds. As soon as his companions reached out for the slice, the strange room was gone, and so were his comrades. Dizziness consumed Lawrence for a split second as he tried to figure out where he was and what was happening, but then Reed appeared next to him without a sound, banishing the disorientation with a flap of his massive wings.

"Run with us," he urged in that wretchedly soothing voice of his, the one that made Lawrence want to either melt or do whatever the man wanted. “We’ll show you everything.”

He held out his hand, and Lawrence took it in his.

~

“So, you’re, like, a god now,” Axton said. His eyes were wide, his coffee long abandoned, traded off for a flask he kept out of Johnny’s reach on top of one of the cabinets.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Lawrence mumbled, feeling his cheeks turn red. “My powers are still limited by how much Eridium I have in my body.”

“But you could still level this town if you wanted.”

He could. He had enough Eridium in him right now to erase half of the planet if he really wanted to. But he didn’t want to tell Axton that - not when he was sitting there looking ready to either get up and leave or vomit.

“I’m still me, you know,” Lawrence said quietly. “I may look different, but I’m still the same person I was before.”

Axton’s brow furrowed as he finally met Lawrence’s gaze. “I know,” he admitted, equally soft. “I’m glad you came at me lookin’ like you do now rather than usin’ your powers to make you appear different. You look good.”

Lawrence didn’t know if he looked “good,” but he was definitely going all-natural. His hair was longer, mostly white, and the swirls dancing across his skin were glowing a soft purple, as were his eyes and his hands. He didn’t want to hide it anymore, and he was glad Axton didn’t want him to either.

“Is the foursome coming or what?” Axton asked.

Lawrence snorted and picked up where he left off.

~

"Faster, Lawrence!"

Glancing up, Lawrence caught a quick glimpse of Reed's flickering form before it vanished from sight, reappearing somewhere miles ahead of him. Despite not having any discernible facial features at the moment, Lawrence knew the soldier had been grinning at him before taking off.

He hurled himself after the ex-Legion trio, feeling himself flashing a grin of his own.

After three days of non-stop training, he was getting the hang of how his powers truly worked. Waverly was right - treading between worlds was a simple feat, really; as long as he kept one metaphorical foot in the “world between worlds,” he could drift through the world undetected by anything and everything. Illya had begun to teach him how to use his powers offensively (without too much damage done to his body this time), and when Reed was conscious, he would offer Lawrence tips on how to center himself, since him losing his temper was a big factor in why he’d gone supernova the first time.

“There’s about as much anger in you as there is goodness,” Reed had told him, only half-teasing as he jabbed the other man in the chest. “You have every right to be angry about what happened to you, but you don’t have to let that rage consume you anymore.”

Lawrence had scowled. “I think at this point, the only one I’m angry with is myself.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just - me dying and being gone for two years - I can only imagine how many of my friends that hurt,” he had whispered, head low.

“Well, thankfully, that’s the kind of thing you can fix,” Reed had pointed out, grinning. “All in due time, my friend.”

As strong as he was now, he still required Eridium to function, and a lot of his training really wore him down. Presently, he had only been out with the others for half an hour, but already he was running low on steam. Three jumps later, he drifted to a hovering halt over a plateau in the middle of a raging sea, shoulders slumped.

For a moment, he was seized with terror at being up so high, but the fact that he was in control seemed to be enough to calm him down before he could have a panic attack. Logic told him that, even if he did fall, he could just heal himself of any injuries he might sustain, but logic was often quickly overshadowed by one's greatest fear when it was staring you in the face.

Lawrence shot down to the plateau and knelt in the soft grass sprouting from the earth. "Tired," he rasped, knowing the others would hear him wherever they were. "I haven't recharged in days."

A second later Waverly appeared before him, wings flexing. "So recharge," she said. "You know where the house is. Meet us back there whenever your wings stop cramping up."

Lawrence stuck his tongue out at her - at least, he thought he did; he might not actually have a tongue in this weird ethereal form - as she vanished, joining her boys on the other side of the planet. It was strange how Lawrence could still sense them despite not being in the same area, but not at all unwelcome. There must have been some sort of connection between the three of them now, like how all of the poor Lost Legion sods on Elpis were all connected through a hive mind. Only with a lot more free will involved, thank god.

He glanced around at his current location. There didn't seem to be anything other than the tall, swaying grass on the plateau, so he summoned up the last bits of energy in his system and hurled himself towards the one place where he knew he'd find Eridium in ample supply.

The mines in Lynchwood had been abandoned since Nisha had died. Most of the workers had either fled to other parts of the planet or stayed in town, merging with the populace. Despite his desire for the mineral, Lawrence had never gone deep into the winding tunnels that spanned most of the mountain the town was situated on.

Now, as he stood before the main entrance to it, he remembered why he hadn't: the place was goddamned spooky. With the electricity that had once powered the string of lights hanging from the ceiling having been diverted to the town, it looked as if he was standing before the dark, gaping maw of a terrible, Eridium-filled creature.

" _You_ are a terrible, Eridium-filled creature," he reminded himself out loud. "You can do this, ass. It's just a dark hole in the ground - ”

Something hot and wet and sticky fell on his shoulder, making him scream and whirl around with a flurry of flailing arms and legs. The shadow that loomed over him was imposing and terrifying for all of three seconds - then the hulking form moved, wiggling all over and making this awful gnashing noise, then licking a gross stripe up Lawrence's torso and face.

"Christ, Dukino!" he whined, reaching up to scratch the skag's chin with one hand while the other tried futilely to wipe away the sticky mess slathered all over his front. "You've gotta weight like, two tons, dude - how did you sneak up on me like that?"

Of course Dukino gave no verbal answer aside from a pleased rumble that Lawrence felt in his chest. He sighed, at ease again, and let his head come to rest on the skag's neck. "Missed you too, buddy," he said quietly. "Even if you are gross."

Dukino did a little happy dance that almost knocked Lawrence off his feet. The bark he gave echoed throughout the canyon, making Lawrence flinch.

"I'm not here to stay," he said to the giant skag, trying to calm him down before he alerted someone to his presence. "Or even visit, really. Just need to grab some Eridium and I'll be on my way."

He knew he was talking to an animal that in all likelihood couldn't understand a word coming out of his mouth aside from certain words and phrases like "good boy" and "go get the ball." Still, there was no mistaking the slouch in Dukino's stature or the tiny mournful whine that escaped him when Lawrence said he was just passing through. Great, as if he didn't feel guilty enough for avoiding his friends - now he had a sad skag on his hands.

"I'll come back some day! I promise!" Lawrence cooed, patting Dukino on his maw. "How could I ever say no to this face? Who's a good boy? Ooh, Dukino, you're such a good boy!"

The praise knocked Dukino on his ass - literally - and left him rolling around in the dirt and squealing with happiness as Lawrence vigorously rubbed his belly. Lawrence couldn't help the laughter escaping him. Animals were so much better than humans.

With Dukino standing guard at the entrance to the mines, Lawrence felt worlds better heading deep inside the winding tunnels to restock on Eridium. He absorbed a great handful, reigniting the strength in his veins, and stuck several chunks into the pockets lining his coat and pants. The mines had more than enough to supply him, he noted as he strolled back outside. Though he didn't plan on shielding any more cities or wiping facilities off the face of Pandora, it was still nice to know that he had somewhere to replenish his supplies if they ran low.

He stretched out his senses and found Waverly, Illya and Reed back at the house on the other side of the world. Reed’s presence was harder to detect, Lawrence realized suddenly. As he threw himself back to the little cabin in the woods, he quickly discovered why.

Reed had succumbed to Elpis’ hold yet again and now lay flat on the bed in the back room. His eyes were wide open, his mouth slack. Illya was sitting on the edge of the bed next to him looking like he was about to tear the cabin in two.

Waverly shot Lawrence a sideways glance from her spot by the door. “It was nice while it lasted,” she mused bitterly. Reed had been conscious for almost a week - the longest he’d gone in a long time, apparently.

"Why don't you try doing the thing I said the next time he comes back?" Lawrence suggested.

Illya's face turned red from something other than rage while Waverly arched a confused brow and asked, "What thing?"

Lawrence rolled his eyes so hard that he got a headache and almost fell backwards. "Tell him," he began slowly, "or, better yet, show him that you like him. I mean really, really like him."

It took the corporal a second to realize what he meant. "Oh," she said, ducking her head a little. "That."

"You don't think it'll work? Or...you're not interested in him like that - "

"Oh, I'm interested," Waverly assured him. "I love both of my boys equally."

"Then what's the problem?" Lawrence asked, maybe a little too roughly. He felt genuinely bad for these guys, but it was getting to be a little ridiculous that they hadn't at least tried to woo Reed yet. The selfish part of him was pissed off that it was still happening because it was interrupting the time he could have been mastering his powers.

"What if it's not enough?" Illya murmured. His head was hung low, his expression tight with pain as he stared holes through Reed’s comatose body. "What happens if we give him all of us, and Elpis still wins?"

Lawrence deflated, his irritation thoroughly smothered for the time being. "Then you try something else," he concluded gently. "You two got out. I'm sure Reed will someday too, with or without your help."

His words meant nothing, but neither soldier commented on it. They turned their gazes back onto their comrade and waited for him to come back to them.

They didn’t have to wait too long. The next morning, Waverly was in the middle of showing Lawrence how to summon his own energy orbs for combat when Illya appeared next to them, pale yet red-faced all the same.

"He's back," was all he said.

They returned to the cabin with a mere thought. Sure enough, Reed was sitting up in the bed, a book in his lap. He looked tired, but perked up immediately upon seeing everyone clustered in the doorway.

"Hey," he greeted, grinning weakly. "What'd I miss?"

Illya moved first. He jerked as if someone had been holding him back the whole time and had finally let him go. He didn't give Reed much time to react before he was scrambling to his side, taking his cheeks in his massive hands, and kissing him with a tenderness that surprised Lawrence.

The look on Reed's face was downright comical. His wide-eyed surprise bled away to pleasure soon enough as his eyes fluttered shut, but it all came snapping back when he remembered that they weren't alone.

"Illya," he gasped, pushing the man away. "Waverly - you - she's - right here - "

"I am," Waverly agreed as she sat down on the other side of Reed. She hooked the private's chin with her index finger and brought her mouth to his in a searing kiss that rendered him speechless. While he recovered, Illya and Waverly exchanged a kiss, then moved in on their friend in unison.

"Oh," was Reed's muffled revelation as Illya claimed his lips again.

Grinning, Lawrence left the trio to it, pulling the bedroom door shut behind him as he retreated into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	70. Chapter 70

The door to Axton's little bungalow on Wam Bam Island swung open with a bang, cutting Lawrence off mid-story. Johnny darted in, his metal leg making great clank-clank-clank noises as he thundered around the small space with all the energy of a seven-year-old boy.

"Johnny, not now, okay?" Axton started to say, but his words went in one ear and out the other when Johnny caught sight of Lawrence sitting at the kitchen table.

A tremendous grin bloomed on the kid's face as he darted forward, mouthing Lawrence's name over and over as he threw his arms around the man’s neck.

"Hey, kiddo!" Lawrence exclaimed, welcoming him into his arms. "I told you I'd be back, didn't I?"

Axton whirled on him, wild-eyed, but said nothing as Johnny grinned toothily up at Lawrence and quickly signed, "Good to see you again!" He had lost another tooth between now and the last time Lawrence had seen him, giving him a look only a seven-year-old could proudly sport.

Johnny noticed his gaze and puffed out his chest as he pointed to the missing canine. His front incisor was already halfway grown in, and as he opened his mouth wider, Lawrence could see that one of his molars was in the same process.

“You’re growing so fast,” Lawrence murmured. “Soon I won’t be able to hold you on my lap like this. Well, more like you’ll be too old to want me to.”

"Johnny," Axton said suddenly, forcing a stiff grin onto his face. "Law and I are talkin' about grownup stuff. Do me a favor and hit the beach for a while, okay?"

Johnny frowned at the commando, then turned back to Lawrence. "Gonna stay?" he signed, eyes big and hopeful.

"For a while," Axton answered swiftly, cutting off anything Lawrence might have said. "That's one of the things we're gonna talk about. I'll call you in for dinner, okay?"

The kid huffed, not pleased, but slid off Lawrence's lap and darted out the door. The door snapped shut with a small bang, and then Axton was whirling around to glare murderously at Lawrence.

" _Seriously_?" he snarled. "You fuckin’ hang out with a giant goddamned _skag_ of all things, and now I find out you dropped by to say hello to Johnny - which, hey, I can understand since the kid’s been askin' for you since you fuckin' left - but not _me_?"

Lawrence sighed and shut his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Do you want me to explain, or are you perfectly fine with jumping to conclusions?"

"Man, fuck you." Axton turned away and braced his hands on the edge of the counter. He was tense and practically vibrating with rage, but at least he remained in the room.

Lawrence swallowed his own rampant emotions and started talking again, picking up right where he left off.

~

He collapsed onto the couch, exhausted, until he picked up a small piece of Eridium and clutched it in the palm of his hand, drawing it into his body. The ache in his bones faded into obscurity, but the mental fatigue still hung over him. Guess there really was a thing or two that Eridium couldn't cure.

As the noises in the bedroom grew louder, Lawrence found himself mentally drifting out of the house. He wondered just how far he could go before his body had no choice but to follow after.

Apparently not far; a minute later he opened his eyes and found himself drifting somewhere over the valley. The brief stab of terror that always accompanied him when it came to heights took a second to fade away. It was different when he was in control of how high or low he was to the ground, but it was still pretty damn scary.

He turned his gaze to the land beyond the valley and, for the first time in a while, allowed himself to wonder how Axton was doing. He had been trying to keep his mind clear of the commando, knowing that it would only hurt him if he thought about him for longer than necessary. Already his chest was beginning to ache with the desire of simply wanting to see the man.

He could now, he realized. Treading between worlds was an easy feat. Axton would never see him.

The only problem was actually tracking the man down. He had an inkling of where he might be aside from Sanctuary. The only problem was, he wasn't sure where exactly where Wam Bam Island was, just that it was in the north on the other side of the damn planet somewhere. Pandora was a big goddamned place.

Maybe he could teleport to _Axton_ , he thought, turning onto his back as he idly drifted over the tops of some pines. He stared up at the sky, pondering the idea, and debated on flicking back to the house to hear from the others if such a thing was even possible. They were probably still preoccupied, though, so it was probably up to him to figure it out. And hey, even if he did screw up, the worst he could do was kill himself. Again.

He shut his eyes thought about Axton. How would he look now, two years later? Did he still have long, shaggy hair, or had he taken Lawrence’s advice into consideration and cut it? He’d look attractive either way, Lawrence was sure. There wasn’t much the man could do to really take away from how handsome he was.

When he opened his eyes, he was hovering over a beautiful beach. The sand was a bright white, the waters lapping against it crystal clear and garbage-free. For a moment, Lawrence was rendered dumbstruck. Was he on an entirely different planet now? Axton had said Wam Bam Island was gorgeous, but surely not like this.

He found said commando sitting at the end of one of the many piers that stemmed off from the main boardwalk of the town. There was a fishing rod lodged between two half-rotted slats on one side of him and a bucket half filled with water on the other. There were two small fish lazily circling within the bucket, earlier catches of the day. He didn't seem to be having much luck now, but that was probably because the tide was low.

Lawrence hovered next to the man and had to physically restrain himself from reaching out to touch him. He was shirtless and on his way to getting a nasty burn on his shoulders and upper back -

Stop nagging, he told himself suddenly. It wasn't his place to do that anymore.

He turned his attention to Axton's face. He'd shaved and gotten a haircut, but other than that, nothing else had changed. His expression was blank, bordering on tight if the tension in his jaw was any indication. Lawrence wondered what he was thinking.

Eventually, Axton gave up and retreated back down the pier, dragging his bucket of fish with him. Every ounce of Lawrence wanted to fling himself after the commando, but he restrained himself. For all he knew, Axton was heading back to his house where his current beau was waiting for him.

Now curious, Lawrence did eventually drift after the commando just as he disappeared inside one of the colorful shacks stacked along the boardwalks. Lawrence darted around the house’s interior looking for signs of a second adult, but he only found Axton's clothes piled up on a dresser in one room and a bunch of kid's toys in the other. The spare room must have been the kid’s. He wondered how the boy was doing now.

When Lawrence drifted back to the kitchen, Axton was already getting to work cleaning and deboning the fish he'd caught. That tight expression remained on his face as he worked, revealing nothing yet speaking volumes.

He couldn't possibly be waiting for him, Lawrence thought as he snapped back outside and collapsed in an alleyway between two buildings lining the boardwalk. He'd told the commando not to wait for him - and that had been _before_ he died.

"I swear to god," he gritted out. "If you're waiting for a dead man - "

Someone tugged on his pant leg. He turned, half prepared to tell whoever was bugging him to piss off, only feel his jaw drop at the sight of the kid - Johnny, he remembered - standing there.

He was older now, probably six or seven, and looking more and more like Jack, Lawrence noted with remorse. His dimpled chin was getting more pronounced, and even his eyebrows were sharper, though currently they sat in high arcs on his forehead. The bright, wide-eyes and gap-toothed smile were blessedly all his own.

Johnny dropped the weird mechanical doohickey in his hands and began to form finger words. Lawrence wasn’t sure who had taught him how to speak like that, but he wasn’t about to complain. "It's me. Johnny,” he signed slowly. “Do you remember?"

It took a moment before Lawrence's mouth decided to work. "Yes," he finally blurted, choking on a weak laugh. He practically fell to his knees and accepted the hug Johnny hurled at him, grabbing the spindly kid up as tightly as he could. "It's so good to see you, kiddo."

Johnny pulled back long enough for sign a quick, "Missed you too! So happy," before he wrapped his arms around him again in a tight hug.

Lawrence held him for a long time, grateful that somehow he had beaten the odds and was still kicking. There was strength in his hug that suggested he wasn't as wimpy as everyone had all assumed he would become as he aged.

"Everyone said you were gone," Johnny signed as he pulled back. His eyes were sad as he continued. "They said you were dead. But you're here now. Ghost?"

"No, I'm - I'm legit. I'm sorry I made everyone sad. I really, really didn't mean to. What I did - it was an accident."

"It's okay. Everyone will be happy to see you again." Johnny's mismatched eyes lit up as his hands worked almost too quickly for Lawrence to understand. "Have you seen Papa yet? He misses you a lot. The most. Happy to see you, too."

Lawrence was already shaking his head. "I'm not...not here to stay, Johnny." He almost added that he hadn't meant to run into anyone at all, but the absolutely crushed look that flashed across the kid's face shut him right up. "Johnny, I..."

"Why?" he mouthed, not even bothering with finger words.

"I still have things I need to do before I come home," Lawrence explained gently. "It's better if Axton doesn't know I've been here. I don't want to make him even more upset. Understand?"

"No," Johnny signed, frowning wetly. "But I won't tell him."

"Thank you." Desperate not to end the talk on a sad note, he nodded at the weird looking gadget that Johnny had forgotten about and said, "Cool thingy. Did Gaige build that for you?"

The boy shook his head. His hair was longer, floppier, and currently smothered under a patchy aviator hat with straps that smacked him in the face as he moved his head back and forth. "I did," he said proudly, puffing out his chest as he picked up the thingy and held it out to him.

Lawrence's brows shot high on his head as he gingerly took the device and looked it over. He shouldn't be surprised; as much as Jack was an idiot in most aspects, he could be a technical genius when he wanted to be.

"She built my leg though," Johnny continued. He wiggled the metal appendage, showing off the pink skulls and flowers blooming along the calf part of it.

"Well, that's good. At the rate you're growing, you're gonna need a new one every month."

"Every three weeks," Johnny corrected.

"Jeez." Lawrence laughed and passed the device back to him. "Soon you'll be as tall as I am."

"Taller."

"Psh. We'll see, won't we?"

Johnny grinned in reply, then gave a little silent gasp. "I have something for you."

He pulled something silver and shiny out of the back pocket of his shorts - Lawrence's digistruct watch. He resisted the urge to snatch the thing out of the kid's hands; as badly as he wanted his doubles back, it occurred to him that with all the flitting between worlds he'd been doing, he might accidentally screw up their programming if he took them with him.

"They miss you, too," Johnny signed. "Take 'em."

Lawrence shook his head. "I can't." His voice broke on the words. He cursed as his vision became misty again. "I might hurt them. They're safer here with you. Right? I mean, you've been treating them well, right?"

"Uh huh," Johnny signed, frowning sadly down at the watch in his palm. "But they like you more. I know they do. Whenever I call them, they don't stay around for long. They're sad."

Lawrence's heart couldn't take much more of this. He was going to die from all this angst. "Call them for me? Maybe I can convince them this is for the best."

Johnny did so, taking great care in the way he typed the four digit code into the pad of the watch. It actually took a moment for both of Lawrence's doubles to appear; when they did, they looked much like they had before Gaige's modifications: bored and emotionless.

That all changed when they saw him standing there. Blue heaved a startled gasp while Red's jaw actually dropped. "Boss!" they exclaimed in unison, equally stunned and confused.

"H-hey guys," Lawrence rasped, trying to smile.

Blue shook off his shock first; he reached out, desperate to touch, only to let out a frustrated screech when his hand passed through Lawrence's chest. "Need the touchness feelings!" he shrieked.

"Can I...?" Lawrence held his hand out to Johnny, who wordlessly handed the watch over. As soon as it was in his grasp, Lawrence brought it to his face, nuzzling it along his cheek.

His doubles practically purred at the attention; Blue leaned in closer so that he too was touching the watch to his face, his form crackling and flickering with pleasure. Red stayed put, close but otherwise untouching.

"Axton said you died," he said quietly, eyes half lidded. "Was he lying?"

Lawrence flinched, suddenly overcome with the realization that Axton, who had more or less witnessed his death, was left to tell everyone what had happened. God, as if finding that his lover was gone yet again wasn’t enough agony to bear - he had to relive that what, three, four times at least?

"No," he managed to say, swallowing hard. "I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. I'm sorry for leaving you guys. For leaving everyone."

Blue jerked up, grinning. "Returning on the face of happy!"

"I - no, Blue, I'm not - "

"But he's right," Red cut in, sounding desperate despite the blank look on his face. "You're here now. This is a good thing. A happy thing."

"A good," Blue agreed, nodding.

They looked so fucking happy to see him and it broke Lawrence's heart all over again. "Listen. I'm still figuring myself out," he explained. "Coming back from the dead...there's a lot of shit I need to sort through before I can come home. You guys need to stay with Johnny until I'm ready."

"We've been with you up until this point," Red said, frowning. Blue was in the process of wilting beside him. "We want to stay with you until the end, sir."

"Is that you or your programming talking?" Lawrence asked, only half-joking.

"Me, sir. It's always been me."

Another jab to the heart. Lawrence sighed and handed the watch back to Johnny. The motion made his doubles flinch. "I'm different now," he said. "I'm afraid I'll only wind up hurting you guys, doing what I'm doing now. You're safer with Johnny. He's safer with you guys. Trust me."

Both doubles turned to send the kid identical blank looks. Johnny tried to hold their gazes, but soon enough he was back to staring at his feet, thoroughly intimidated. Lawrence scowled at his doubles as they turned back to him.

"Backings swear," Blue said sullenly. He was sulking like a child, with jutted chin and arms folded across his transparent chest.

"What?"

"He wants you to promise to come back," Red elaborated. "As do I."

"I've always come back," Lawrence pointed out lamely. "I just...keep leaving after I do."

"So make us a promise that you'll stop doing that," Red said, tilting his head as if he was issuing a challenge. "If not for us, then for the others." He looked towards Johnny, who was staring at the ground looking like someone had just kicked his puppy.

"All right," Lawrence said. "The next time you guys see me, I'll be here to stay. I promise." He just had to stay away for as long as possible to make sure that much was true. "Now, are you two gonna hold up your end of the deal?"

Blue hummed, then disappeared with a rush of aqua and white pixels. Instead of returning to the watch, however, he reappeared, several feet shorter and a lot younger. Johnny recoiled, wide-eyed and mildly terrified at the sight of a blue, transparent copy of himself standing mere inches from him.

Blue lifted his tiny hand in a wave. "Hello, friend," he said. Lawrence's voice came out of his mouth, which seemed to terrify the kid. Honestly, Lawrence couldn't blame him.

"Blue," he hissed, "download a kid's voice or something. You're freaking him out."

The less badass double looked up at his former boss, then back to Johnny. He scrunched his digital face up, looking for all the world like he was about to shit himself.

"Hello yes friends we are now," he tried again, this time sounding very much like a young boy.

Johnny stared at him, blinked twice, then broke out in a wide grin. If he could, he probably would have been laughing with glee.

"Aww," Lawrence cooed to Red, who looked less than pleased by his partner's change. "What, you're not gonna join them?"

"No," Red said immediately. "I am quite content as I am."

"Suit yourself. I think you'd make a cute badass kid."

"Duly noted, sir."

Lawrence chuckled and took a step backwards. He had stayed way too long; he was honestly surprised Axton hadn't heard the ruckus and come over to investigate. Red noticed his retreat and frowned, but it was more out of sad acceptance than bitterness.

"Take care of my boys?" Lawrence asked. His voice cracked again and sounded foreign tumbling out of his mouth.

Red nodded. "Always, sir."

"Th-thanks. And remember, none of you guys saw me today."

"Affirmative. I will remind the...the kids when they stop...doing that," Red muttered, gesturing to his other half and Johnny, who were running the length of the boardwalk like - well, like little kids. "See you later, sir."

Lawrence nodded. It wasn't goodbye. They would meet up again, hopefully soon.

He flicked himself away, back to the small cabin in an uncharted woods on the other side of the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	71. Chapter 71

The second Lawrence touched down in the main room of the cabin, he was shoved unceremoniously into the closest wall so hard that the metal buckled around him and his teeth rattled in his head.

“I told you,” Illya hissed, eyes ablaze with untethered fury. “I told you it would not work!”

It took Lawrence a long moment to understand what the giant man was so upset over. “I didn’t say it would be instantaneous!” he gasped, reaching up to tug at the man’s iron grip on his shirt. “Illya, please let go - ”

He let him go into the coffee table, which splintered beneath him with an awful, loud noise. He lay there, wheezing, until Waverly finally surfaced from the other room, pale and flashing her angry eyes in Illya’s direction.

“This isn’t his fault, Illya!” she snapped, marching over to the behemoth. “I told you not to take it out on him!”

Illya stiffened, officially chastised, and move to stand on the other side of the room, still fuming and grumbling about how unfair everything was.

Lawrence gingerly sat up and yanked a rather large splinter out of his side. “Maybe it’s a gradual thing,” he offered somewhat lamely. “Something that takes time and effort - ”

“Too much time,” Illya grunted from his pouting corner. “Reed was expecting change, too. Now he will wake and be even worse than before.”

Lawrence couldn’t suppress a flinch at that. He knew what that feeling was like - having hope, only to have it dashed to the ground right in front of him. He could only imagine how downtrodden Reed was going to be.

“Okay,” he drawled, “could we, I dunno, go to Elpis and just - break up the hivemind or something?”

They exchanged a quick glance. “Unlikely,” Waverly reported. “There isn’t anything generating it. It developed as we all changed together. To destroy it means disabling those a part of it.”

“Can we do that, then?”

Both soldiers regarded him with identical heavy stares.

“Those are our comrades,” Illya said.

Lawrence met his icy gaze head-on. “Are they still?”

Illya’s mouth snapped shut as he turned away with a snarl. As he fumed again, Waverly focused her intense gaze on Lawrence, her expression as readable as a stone wall.

“What are you suggesting? That we go to Elpis and kill the entire Lost Legion?” she asked.

“No, but I do think we need to go to Elpis. We can’t really form a plan of action until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. Who knows - maybe we can stroll in there, tell them there’s no war, and that’ll be enough to disperse them and the hivemind.”

Illya was already shaking his head. “It won’t be that easy,” he said. “Will be like talking to brick wall.”

Lawrence shrugged. “I think it could be worth a shot.”

Waverly chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “So do I,” she admitted. “But any of us going there again - we run the risk of being sucked back in. Even you, Lawrence.”

The possibility had occurred to him, but after spending years of his life a mindless slave for one man, he doubted anything in the universe had enough power to bring him to his knees like that ever again. He wouldn’t allow it - simple as that - and he told them such.

Mollified for the time being, Waverly offered him a nod and said, “I’m in.”

“No!” Illya snarled, whirling on her. “The risk is too high!”

“We have to try, Illya.” Waverly squared her shoulders and held the man’s fiery gaze. It was a silent challenge, one that he couldn’t stand up to.

“Reed cannot come with us,” Illya offered eventually, breaking her gaze.

Waverly shook her head in agreement. “He isn’t. And neither are you.”

“What - ”

“Someone needs to be with him when he wakes up. He’s going to be in distress.” The corporal’s expression flickered with a brief flash of pain. “He can’t lose both of us if something goes wrong.”

A terrible noise escaped the taller man, quiet yet distressing all the same. He went from being enraged to weeping in less than an instant; he leaned into Waverly and shuddered with sobs he couldn’t quite swallow.

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” he slurred, words almost unintelligible. “We were so close, and now we put everything at risk again…”

She shushed him and held him tightly. “Have some faith in us, Illya,” she cooed. “I have faith in Lawrence. He’s going to watch my back in case I start doing anything stupid thanks to the hivemind. Right?”

Lawrence nodded and flashed them both a confident grin. “Of course.” It was literally the least he could do in exchange for these people saving his life and teaching him how to make the most of his powers.

“That settles it, then.” Waverly gently pushed Illya back and dabbed at his wet eyes with the corner of her sleeve. She offered him a grin and kissed him on the brow. “Lawrence and I got this. In and out, and no mess in the morning.”

Illya huffed, but didn’t seem eager to protest anymore. He turned to face Lawrence and fixed him with a glare that didn’t quite work, given that he had tears still trickling down his flushed face and a booger dangling about an inch out of one nostril.

“You protect her from hive,” he snapped, jabbing a threatening finger at his chest. “Or I break you.”

Grinning, Lawrence flashed the man a salute. “You got it, bro. Like Waverly said - in and out, no mess.”

“Puh.”

Waverly flashed Illya a parting smile as she moved to stand next to Lawrence. “So,” she said through a small, shaky sigh, “to Elpis.”

“To Elpis.” Lawrence touched a hand to her shoulder and flung both of them through the stars, to a tiny little port on a moon he hadn’t set foot on in years.

For once, touchdown was easy and smooth, but Lawrence attributed that to the fact that there was very little gravity on Elpis to send them crashing into the moonscape. He touched them down, and for a split second, everything was fine.

Then Lawrence let out an awful noise and collapsed, wheezing and crying out from the sudden shift from souped up to too weak to stand. He hadn’t anticipated on the fact that he was literally teleporting them hundreds of thousands of miles into space - of course he was going to all but zap his reserves dry! Stupid!

“I’ve got you,” Waverly said from somewhere close. He felt her warm hands on him, prodding, until they finally settled on his chest.

The burst of energy took him by surprise, but it wasn’t unwelcome. His hands flew to hers, greedy for more, but eventually she pulled away, hushing him when he whimpered with the loss.

“You’ve got your own supply, baby,” she told him as she straightened up. “But I think you should be good for now.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly as he too stumbled to his feet. “Guess I forgot how far away the moon actually is.”

“Well, you got us here,” Waverly pointed out as she turned to face the vast, dull landscape just to the right of them.

Pandora loomed on the horizon, distant and pale save for the shock of purple coming from the vault Lilith and the others had blasted open years ago. Standing between them was Helios, just as big and imposing as Lawrence remembered it being while he’d been stomping around these parts. He let his gaze drift to the space station’s eye, all aglow with a blue haze that should have been calming, but Lawrence couldn’t help but feel like they were being watched, even if most of the interesting stuff was happening down on Pandora.

“And I’m assuming this awful-looking place is Concordia,” Waverly continued, turning to gesture at the mess of metal and trash that sat just to their left. They had landed by the entrance to Serenity’s Waste - funnily enough, where Lawrence had gotten his first expression of Concordia as well.

They began to make their way into town - or what remained of it. Concordia had always been a little dirty and not exactly rife with inhabitants, but the city’s state right now was downright atrocious: buildings were falling apart, there were piles of trash in the street so tall that they threatened to smother someone to death if they toppled over. There was no one in the center of town. A lot of the neighboring buildings appeared to be abandoned. Even Moxxi’s Up Over Bar on the other side of the gap had seen better days; the neon signs were all broken, as was the large window overlooking the street.

Waverly let out a low whistle. “Damn. Did it always look this way?”

“No. I guess after we managed to stop the Lost Legion from destroying the moon, most of Concordia’s residents fled to Pandora,” Lawrence offered, shrugging. “Any hopes of it being used as a halfway point between open space and Pandora were crushed when Helios was finished. There was never much here for anyone anyway.”

They meandered around for a few minutes more, finding much of the same. The town had probably been recently deserted, Lawrence concluded. He hoped most of its inhabitants made it out in one piece to wherever they’d gone. They were an odd batch for sure, but who wasn’t?

He cast Waverly a sideways glance when she stopped moving to lean her arm against the side of a building. “You doing all right?”

“Yes,” she replied, sniffing. “It’s just...I can hear them calling me, you know? I’m resisting fine. It’s just unnerving hearing them so clearly after all this time of only dealing with a small buzz in the back of my head.”

Lawrence reached into his coat to pull out a sizeable chunk of Eridium that he swiftly absorbed for an extra boost. “We should probably get there and back as soon as possible then,” he said. “Ready for another trip?”

“Always.” She went to put her hand on him, but hesitated. “Just don’t throw us in there. We don’t know what we’re up against yet.”

He offered her a comforting grin. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He brought them to Vorago Solitude, a few yards from the Dahl station that would take them to the entrance to Tycho’s Ribs. Lawrence immediately tensed up, ready to engage with any Dahl soldiers that might be hanging around in an attempt to stop them from entering, but the area was deathly silent. In the few times he and his comrades had come through this area on one mission or another, there had always seemed to be an ample supply of soldiers ready to make their lives harder. Now there was nothing.

He exchanged a look with Waverly and went to talk, only to suddenly realize they were in space and had no oxygen to breathe let alone use to speak. It stunned him for a moment, but it sort of made sense. He didn’t have oxygen in his blood anymore - just Eridium.

Waverly nodded towards the entrance of the station, and together they made their way there, quick yet keenly aware of their surroundings. At the first sign of an air bubble, they darted inside, if only for a moment to speak to each other.

“What the hell?” Lawrence exclaimed once he caught his breath. “This place used to be crawling with you guys. What happened?”

“After you and your friends opened the vault, most of us regrouped within the Eleseer to wait for further orders,” Waverly explained. “Orders eventually came: prepare for war - The War That Never Was, as you and your friends came to call it. The Watcher had told us to wait for a new leader to lead us in that war: you. Theoretically, those still waiting should do whatever you order them to do.” She sent him a strange look. “Are you all right? You’re awfully pale.”

“I…” He sucked in another breath and squeezed his eyes shut. “There’s like, a tickling sensation in the back of my head. I keep thinking I’m hearing you talk to me, too, only there’s like six of you, all talking at the same time.”

“The hive,” Waverly said, grimacing. “You’re starting to feel its effects. Damn, I was afraid this would happen.”

“Don’t panic yet,” he told her quickly. “It’s just a weird feeling, that’s all. I’m not about to break.”

“Well, good. I’d hate to see you snap over whispers when I’ve got a whole choir screaming at me right now.”

“Don’t panic yet,” he said again.

They slowly made their way through the rest of the deserted station, only pausing once or twice. The first time was when Waverly found one of her old ECHOs lying around, still somehow functioning despite years of neglect and lack of oxygen.

“I don’t remember saying any of this,” Waverly admitted once the tape stopped playing. She stared off into the distance, clearly disturbed. “I can’t tell if I was already enthralled at this point or if I said this shit and the Watcher made me forget. It wouldn’t be the first gap in my memory, that’s for sure.”

Lawrence shuddered. He had a little experience himself with the Watcher manipulating his mind. Axton had been so shaken up the night he had sleep-walked back to HQ under the control of that alien prick - and Lawrence never would have known about it if the commando hadn’t broken down and told him about it days later.

Waverly tsked and threw the ECHO across the room, easily shattering the device against the wall. “Fucker,” she groused.

They came to a room right before the elevator that would take them closer to the entrance to Tycho’s Ribs. Lawrence stopped and stared at a door near the staircase.

“This is where I met Reed for the first time,” he said, chuckling. “He was wounded and begging for his life. And Jack wanted me to kill him.”

“Well, I’m really, really glad you didn’t,” Waverly offered, smiling tiredly. “Even though you got in trouble for it, didn’t you?”

“I got in trouble for a lot of things.” Lawrence shrugged.

They made it down the elevator into the open area where Lawrence had fought that stupid airship. He half expected it to show up and rain mortars down on them as they made their way towards the small station across the arena, but everything remained still and quiet. It had gone past being strange to utterly creepy - to the point where Lawrence could feel himself getting paranoid.

“Relax,” Waverly said as they entered the shaft that would take them to Tycho’s Ribs. “Nearly there.”

“I feel like we’re being followed.”

“We are. But not by something we can see.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better, thanks.”

Dahl machinery and constructs vanished instantly upon setting foot through the door at the end of the tunnel. Suddenly they were in a familiar, spacious purple room that acted as a restocking area before setting foot into the main area that was Tycho’s Ribs. The vending machines were still there, functioning but only just, and encrusted with Eridium crystals.

This was the kind of place that swallowed and merged with everything that didn’t conform with it. Staying here for longer than necessary - it hadn’t been an option back in his vault hunting days and it sure as hell wasn’t an option now. Or so Lawrence kept telling himself.

Spurned by this knowledge, they wasted little time in delving deeper into the core of the area. The place was confusing to navigate on a good day, but Waverly seemed to know the way by heart and led him through the winding side passages and terrifying pylons until they came to the right path that would take them even deeper into the moon’s core.

It was only then they suddenly began to encounter guardians. The sight of the pale-faced creatures rendered Lawrence momentarily stunned, mostly because he didn’t have a weapon and was used to automatically open firing on these pasty bastards. But then Waverly was flashing her wings and sending them scattering over the alien constructs for cover.

“Forgot about those little bastards,” he wheezed quietly.

“I always thought they were weird,” Waverly said as she urged him onwards. Her voice was tight, strained, but she was trying to play it off as nothing. “Especially the Watcher. Nobody should be able to do what it did to us. To you, to me, my men. It took away our free will without taking away our free will. How fucked up is that?”

“Pretty fucked up,” Lawrence agreed, glancing over his shoulder. Pale faces returned his stare, keeping a distance but still there, observing. Watching.

More guardians appeared the closer they got to the entrance to the Eleseer, on edge but not outright attacking. Waverly and Lawrence kept flashing their true forms as a warning to stay away, and it seemed to work for the most part.

Finally, they made it to the strange, Eridian elevator that would take them deeper into the bowels of the moon to the Eleseer. Lawrence let out a puff of relief upon stumbling onto the platform and grunted when Waverly ran into him immediately afterward. Gone were the elegant creatures that lurked behind their skin; they scrambled around like frightened children for a good ten seconds before Lawrence finally found the on switch. The platform gave a lurch, then began to fold in on itself as it descended.

Lawrence collapsed onto his ass as a relieved laugh bubbled past his lips. It was stupid to feel that way, really - he was actually in a far more dangerous position now, trapped between a horde of guardians in Tycho’s Ribs and a legitimate army of Lost Legion soldiers down below.

“Nearly there,” he said - to himself or Waverly or the voices in his head, he wasn’t sure.

The voices were much clearer now, but still whispers in the back of his head. It reminded him of the space herps incident in the Veins of Helios - that awful itching sensation that he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he scratched - and abruptly he was all too aware of how much he didn’t like the sensation.

“Waverly,” he choked out, reaching up to grab his head. “They’re too loud. I don’t - what are they even saying?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Waverly hissed from her spot on the floor across from him. She was horribly pale and rigid, like she was sitting on nails. “Don’t listen to them. They’ll lie to you. They’ll drag you under and drown you. Don’t listen, don’t listen.”

Through his almost drunk-like confusion, he noted her distress and forced himself to snap out of it for her sake. He crawled over to her side and gripped her by her shoulders, giving her a firm shake as he barked her name.

Wide, dark eyes met his lone blue one. It took her a moment, but eventually she nodded her thanks and sat up on her own, shaking but more sound of mind.

“Thanks. Sorry, I,” she sucked in a breath, “I thought something like this might happen the closer we got to the core. I panicked, and they took advantage of it.”

He offered her a shrug and what he hoped was a smile of reassurance. “Just keep thinking of your boys back home,” he said.

“That’s the plan,” Waverly murmured, squeezing her eyes shut.

The elevator slowed to a gradual stop, then unfolded, revealing the huge platform that made up the Eleseer’s interior. Lawrence took a deep breath, then started forward, Waverly at his heels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	72. Chapter 72

It was absurdly quiet in the Eleseer. There was a distant thrumming that always seemed to be present - probably whatever was keeping the damn thing afloat in a sea of bright stars and constellations - but other than that, there was nothing to distract Lawrence from his morbid thoughts.

The voices of the hivemind had gone unexpectedly quiet, and as he and Waverly began to traverse their way through the maze-like structure, he began to realize that there weren’t any guardians standing between them and wherever the soldiers were located, either. It was just the two of them.

“I’m not used to just walking through this place,” Lawrence admitted once the silence became too much for him to bear. “Where are all the guardians? Those weird, nun-lookin’ aliens that spit out those hideous fetus things?”

Waverly shrugged, just as confused. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re treating this place like a tomb,” she said. “They wouldn’t be wrong.”

At the end of the maze was the ramp that led up to the upper ring of the installment, which then followed up with another ramp to the final level. It left them standing before the huge, floating crystal with the light-spewing gash in it. Lawrence knew now it was a tear into another dimension, into the vault where he’d fought the Sentinel. It looked like he was about to take another trip there to visit the old bastard.

“Seriously? They’re in the vault?” he asked the corporal, turning to send her a thin-lipped look. “We’re not gonna have to fight the Sentinel thing, are we? ‘Cos I did that once and I really don’t want to have to do it again.”

She nodded, eyes on the prize. “This was the only safe meeting place for us after the contents of the vault were destroyed,” she elaborated. “And no, I don’t think the Sentinel’s going to be waiting in there for us. You don’t exactly show your face again after calling yourself ‘invincible’ and then getting your ass kicked.”

Lawrence snorted out a laugh despite his current fear. “No, I certainly wouldn’t.” His humor bled out of him as quickly as it had snapped into place. With a sigh of resignation, he reached out with a shaking hand towards the glowing gash.  
The first time he’d gone through the tear, he had been left dizzy and traumatized from seeing his hands turn strange colors. It hadn’t left any standing effects, at least. This time, he was expecting to be slammed by the sensation of stepping from one dimension to another.

Lawrence sucked in a loud breath at the sight that greeted him once his vision stopped swimming with bright lights. Soldiers - hundreds, probably, all lined up in neat, orderly rows, some still in their Dahl-issued uniforms while others had ditched them entirely for the strange outfits Lawrence recalled seeing before when he’d been combating these dudes up on the surface.

"Oh, god," Waverly breathed from beside him. "It's worse than I thought..."

She was no doubt referring to the fact that a lot of her fellow soldiers had fused to things - the ground, each other. Giant purple crystals jutted out of their spines, their shoulders and necks, and some had hideous growths on their faces. The Eleseer was trying to reclaim the parts of it that had been used to change these men and women. It was horrific and made Lawrence's stomach churn with nausea.

He took a step forward, and suddenly everyone in the room was looking at him. Hundreds of pairs of wide, white eyes staring through his very being, making him freeze in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as he was filled with the desire to run, to get the hell out before he too was consumed by the hive, by the Eleseer.

Waverly's hand on his shoulder was like a buoy in a storm. "They're waiting for orders," she rasped. "They've waited so long for you. What will you tell them?"

Lawrence's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. A part of him wanted to tell them what they wanted to hear, if only to put them at ease and give them some sort of peace, but he knew that wouldn't work out for anyone in the end.

"There is no war," he began quietly. Waverly elbowed him, motioning him to speak up for the poor sods in the back. "The - the war the Watcher told you about - it's not going to happen anymore. I made sure of it." He hesitated when nobody responded - not even a blink.

He turned to Waverly and sent her a lost look, which she returned. "Keep going," she offered lamely.

With no other option, he turned back to the soldiers. "The Watcher is dead," he spat shakily, bracing for a reaction of some sort. Again, nothing. "I killed it when it tried to make me jump-start the war. There's nothing keeping any of you here now. You're free to leave. You're free."

Not one soldier moved. Lawrence might as well have been speaking to stone statues.

Beside him, Waverly let out a sad sigh. "It might be too late," she murmured. "So much of them is already lost."

Lawrence bit his lip. "What if I...what if I joined the hivemind and spoke to them from there - "

"Hell no," Waverly snapped, appalled. "Are you serious? Law, you're powerful - more powerful than everyone in the room combined I'm sure - but this? This isn't something you can jump in and out of whenever you please. It took some serious work for Illya and I to escape, and you know how hard it's been for Reed."

"I mean, I'm open for suggestions," Lawrence told her. "I just can't imagine leaving them here like this. This - this is some serious level of hell."

"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know." She bit her lip. "What would you tell them if you joined the hive? Their voices would probably just smother yours."

"Or they'd be quiet and listen to their supposed leader," Lawrence pointed out. "They're expecting me to lead, right? Can't do that if everyone's talking at once."

"And if they don't like what you have to say?" Waverly countered, moving to stand in his space. She was taller than him, built like an Amazon warrior, and downright intimidating as she continued. "If they tear your mind to pieces for trying to get them to be different? That's a very real possibility, Lawrence, even if you are the chosen one! I’m not authorizing this!"

He wilted against her harsh, truthful words. "So...we're leaving them like this, then?" he asked, gesturing to the soldiers still staring blankly at the two of them.

She flinched and shut her eyes, unable to stand the sight of her fellow soldiers. "Yes," she said quietly. "I appreciate what you're willing to do for my comrades, but they're not human anymore. I honestly doubt they'd be able to understand you if you did join the hive. It's just not worth the risk."

Lawrence let out a tired sigh and dragged a hand through his hair. He tried to think of another way to get them all out, but, as he looked at the blank, distorted faces of the men and women around him, he began to realize that Waverly was probably right. She knew this sort of thing better than he did.

"All right," he finally relented, "but what about the hivemind? We came all the way here to destroy it."

"I don't think that's an option either," Waverly admitted through a shaking voice she didn't try to mask. The corporal looked on the verge of tears as she gripped at her own wiry hair. "Short of killing everyone, I don't think there's anything we can do to break it up."

Lawrence knew that probably wasn't going to work either - not if these guys healed as quickly as he did. Besides, for all they knew, the Legion had already mentally ascended and that killing their physically forms would do nothing to quiet the voices.

"Okay," he began to babble, desperate for a solution, "we know that the call to join the hive gets stronger the closer we are to Elpis, right? What if you guys just get the hell out of this portion of space? Fly to one of the Edens or Dionysus or, shit, Promethea would probably be better than this shithole, right? Just get as far away from Elpis as possible. Theoretically the bond would weaken to the point where it would just cease to exist, right? Maybe?"

Waverly gaped at him, neither disgusted nor entirely turned on by the idea. "I...I suppose we could try that," she eventually offered. "The worst that could happen is that it just doesn't work and Reed continues to fluctuate."

"Right!" A semi-hysterical laugh escaped Lawrence's chest. "Okay, so, let’s get the hell back to Pandora, find you guys a ship, and then send you off. Sound like a plan?"

"Better than anything we've cooked up so far," Waverly agreed, straightening up. "Need a boost before we go?"

"Please." Lawrence paused and sent the soldiers one last look. "Do you, uh, want a moment to say goodbye?”

Waverly followed his gaze and frowned. “They stopped being my comrades a long time ago,” she murmured eventually, turning away. Lawrence could see the pain in her gaze, but she refused to let her feelings change her mind. “Ready when you are.”

Lawrence accepted the boost she gave him, just barely managing to keep the obscene noises down to a minimum. Fully loaded, he took her by the arm and brought them back to the tiny cabin in the middle of Nowhere, Pandora, this time very mindful of just how much juice he needed to get from the moon and back. Waverly’s jolt had given him just enough to get them there without him collapsing.

Illya was on the couch staring blankly down at a book in his lap when he sensed them standing in the doorway. The scowl on his brow vanished as he jerked to his feet, book long forgotten as it clattered to the floor. Waverly met him halfway in an embrace and let him babble words in his native tongue until he got a hold of himself and was able to step back and properly address them.

“You look like shit,” he spat, brow creasing with concern. “What happened? Reed hasn’t woken yet.”

As Waverly explained to her beau what transpired in the last couple of hours, Lawrence watched Illya’s face as it grew redder with rage and more and more twisted with disgust.

“So incredibly dangerous trip was worthless,” he summed up, scowling. “Reed is still stuck, hive still active. Perfect. Now what?”

“Fuck!” came an anguished cry from the bedroom, followed by another string of colorful curses and the sound of something breaking.

Waverly and Illya bolted to their Reed's side, and by the time Lawrence poked his head through the doorway, the trio were huddled together on the bed, a furious Reed sandwiched between his comrades.

"It's not fair," the soldier was snarling through his tears. "Why won't it let me go? I thought this would work! I thought being with you two would be enough...!"

Lawrence flinched and recoiled in the doorway a little as the man continued to rage. Illya was right; Reed was taking this far harder than Lawrence had initially thought he would. At least there was some good news waiting for him once his angry cries died down into furious sniffling.

"We've come up with a plan," Waverly said softly as she stroked Reed's back. "We're getting away from Elpis, from the hive - everything."

"How?" Reed pulled back from Illya's chest and dragged a hand across his runny nose. "Nothing we've tried has worked. Short of killing myself - "

"Nyet," Illya barked, narrowing his gaze at the younger man before turning to his other lover. "What is plan, Waverly?”

“We’re leaving. The more distance we put between us and Elpis, the less time you spend in the hive. Theoretically."

The two men exchanged startled, wide-eyed looks with each other. "You really think it could be that simple?" Illya asked.

Reed nodded, his brow creased with concern. "Distance hasn't seemed to make a difference before," he added.

"Because we haven't put enough of it between us and them," Waverly said. "Pandora was our only choice when we escaped from Helios. Now we have the chance to truly get away. I dunno about you, but I'm willing to try it."

“As am I,” Illya readily agreed, sounding excited despite his neutral expression.

Reed, on the other hand, turned to stare down at his lap for a long time. "If it doesn't work?" he asked quietly. "If I'm stuck no matter where we go?"

"Then we will continue to be there for you when you wake," Illya informed him. "Is simple as that."

The private's lower lip trembled for a second, but then he was straightening up and fixing the room's occupants with a determined look. "Like you said," he began, "it's worth a shot. I'm in."

Tired smiles were shared in the group as tiny seeds of hope were planted. Lawrence knew the others were hesitant to let them grow, having been burned too much in the past, but he had a good feeling about all of this.

Waverly turned to face him. “Do you mind if we leave now? I know it’s abrupt, but we’ve taught you all we can. I feel like anyone who can sit on the bottom of the ocean one second and flick off to the moon the next is ready to be on their own, don’t you?”

He couldn’t argue with her there. There was no doubt in Lawrence’s mind that he had a better handle on his powers now more than ever - but what’s more: he understood how they worked. The sensation of being a stranger in his own body had faded into obscurity.

“Don’t worry about me,” he told them. “Are you guys gonna have enough juice to clear the atmosphere, or do you want me to give you a head-start?”

The trio sent him startled, confused looks. “We are not that strong,” Illya said, shaking his head. “We will need ship.”

Lawrence felt his stomach fall out of his ass. “Oh. Shit. I, uh, didn’t think about that,” he admitted, rubbing at the stubble on his chin.

Crap, he couldn’t think of anywhere on Pandora that acted as a legitimate port. Every time he had come down from Helios, it had been on Jack’s personal flagship. Logically he knew the planet must have a spaceport somewhere - how else would people get to and from Elpis? - but he’d be damned if he knew where to even start looking, and he told the soldiers as such.

“There’s a port on the outskirts of the Frozen Wastes,” Reed supplied. “That’s not the issue. It’s actually acquiring a ship that has enough power and space to accommodate us. Obviously, we’ll need to commandeer one through...morally questionable tactics.”

“This is Pandora,” Waverly reminded him. “The person we steal the damn thing from probably deserves it.”

Reed shrugged and rose to his feet. “Guess we won’t know until we check it out for ourselves.”

~

Aptly named, Hogback Harbor was perched at the very top of a three-mile long ridge that snaked its way along Pandora’s western coastline. The port town had only one main street that spanned the entire length of the ridge’s narrow crest. All of its buildings, commercial and residential, were built precariously over the edge of the ridge. Most were propped up from below with thin beams that looked ready to snap at any given moment, but it sure beat hanging in mid-air with nothing but your front porch’s connection to the street for support.

On the other side of town were the actual docks where ships came to restock and refuel. Though Lawrence knew little to nothing about shipping, he was pretty sure that things could have been better. Half of the ships were so closely docked that their sides rubbed up against one another with ugly, haunting screeches and groans. The gangways that lead up to said ships were constructed out of anything the builders could get their hands on; a good percentage had fallen to pieces long ago and just hadn’t been rebuilt. Like most things on Pandora, Hogback Harbor had seen better days.

Still, there were a surprising amount of people traversing the harbor’s main street. Lawrence and his soldier friends had spent a few minutes scoping out the town from the air and now stood awkwardly by one of the town’s nameless buildings, listening to the chatter of the townsfolk and the worrisome noises that said building was making as it swayed slowly back and forth in the wind.

“Do we have a plan?” Lawrence chanced asking after a while had passed.

“Listen to the local gossip,” Waverly said. “Find the best worst ship docked and steal it. Preferably with no casualties, but whatever. As long as we get off this rock at the end of the day.”

Lawrence hummed, pleased that they weren’t going straight for violence. “All right. I guess I’ll head to the pub. One of you guys can hang out by the port and chat up some sailors. There might be people in the market talking, too. We listen for, say, maybe two hours, then we can regroup after and hopefully share some decent intel. Sound good?”

“Nyet,” Illya spat. “Not going to work.”  
  
Lawrence sent him a weird, startled look from over his shoulder, only to find all three of them looking pale and appalled by the very idea of interacting with people. “Why not?” he demanded.

“We haven’t been around people in so long, Lawrence,” Reed muttered, averting his eyes. “This is up to you, I’m afraid. Sorry.”

He stared at them, momentarily rendered mute with surprise. His first instinct was to call them out on their bullshit - they were soldiers, for fuck’s sake! - but knew that was unfair. “All right, fine, I’ll take care of it,” he snapped. “Just don’t go too far. I might need backup.”

The trio sent him waves of thankful reassurance that quelled the irritation bubbling in his veins, at least for the time being. With a thought, he was clothed and humanoid again, a nobody in a sea of other nobodies on their way to do their business.

He made his way to the one place he was certain he’d find answers: the town’s pub. It was easy enough to find; all he had to do was follow the crowd of half-drunken sailors on shore-leave, and soon enough he was walking through the rickety front door of a two-story deathtrap called The Colonel’s Daughter.

He might as well have been stepping onto a ship adrift at sea with the way the whole building was swaying. Putting all thoughts of the place plummeting from the side of the ridge out of his mind, Lawrence made his way over to the bar and sat down on the first empty stool he found.

“What can I get ya?” the gruff-looking bartender asked him. He had a tattoo of a hawk on his forearm that looked as weathered as the rest of him.

Lawrence eyed the dude up and contemplated on asking him outright for information, but decided against it and instead ordered a bottle of rakk ale. It came to him warm and not even opened, but that was fine. It wasn’t like he was going to pay for it anyway.

Hunched over in his seat and head low, he expanded his senses and did his best to pick apart the multitudes of conversations taking place all around him. A couple were fighting rather nastily in a corner booth, another poor sod was begging for his life after losing yet another card game and being unable to pay up - nothing useful.

“Might be a bust,” he said out loud, knowing that the soldiers were listening. Maybe it would just be easier if he headed down to the docks and scoped the place out from there.

Just as he was seriously beginning to contend that idea, someone sat down next to him. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed a dark-haired man with goggles over his eyes and a backpack full of loot that looked pretty rare.

The man’s name came to him rather abruptly through no use of his powers. “Michael?” he asked, earning the man’s attention. “Michael Mamaril?”

Michael gave him a quick once-over, expression never wavering away from bemused. “Can’t say I’ve seen you before, stranger,” he said through a chuckle.

“No, I - I used to live in Sanctuary a long time ago,” Lawrence elaborated. “Saw you around once or twice handing out loot to vault hunters. What brings you all the way out here?”

The tension seeped out of the man’s shoulders as he shrugged. “My never-ending quest for loot, of course,” he said simply as he accepted his drink from the burly bartender. “A lot of interesting stuff comes in on these ships sometimes. I wouldn’t be Michael Mamaril if I didn’t trade or snatch up what I could.” He took a long swig from his bottle, then offered Lawrence a cock of his head. “As a fellow resident of Sanctuary, I might be willing to part with a few of my newer acquisitions.”

Lawrence hummed around his own pull of his drink. “That’s very nice of you,” he said, flashing him a disarming smile, “but the loot I’m after at the moment is of the informative kind. Don’t suppose you can tell me anything about any of the ships currently docked on the other side of town, could you?”

“Why? You looking to steal one?”

“Yes.”

The admission took Michael by surprise, if his barking laugh was any indication. “Oh, well, fuck me, then,” he said through a chuckle. “Why not just take the biggest one and be done with it?”

“Size doesn’t matter. I want to steal a ship from someone who deserves it,” Lawrence explained. “The worse the captain and their crew is, the less my conscious is gonna rag on me about it later.”

“Ah. Tell me, sir, what do you know about Hogback Harbor?”

“Not a goddamned thing. I didn’t even know it existed until a few hours ago.”

Michael hummed. “Well, this place has gone downhill since Hyperion shed their hold on it a few years ago. Every ship docked here is dabbling in things they shouldn’t be.” He took another long drag. When he set his bottle down, his expression was oddly blank. “But some things are worse than others. You find the _Black Harrier_ , you’ve found your ship, sir. I guarantee it.”

Lawrence cocked a brow at the man as he tossed a crumpled bill down onto the counter and sauntered out of the pub.

“The _Black Harrier_ ,” he repeated. Beside him, three familiar energies began to bubble with excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief warning for the contents of the _Black Harrier_ 's loot - if you want to know what it is beforehand, check out the end notes. It might be obvious, it might not, but I thought I'd throw up a warning just in case.

Like Hogback Harbor, the _Black Harrier_ was suitably named. Hovering off by its lonesome in the docking bay part of town was this sleek, shiny vessel as black as the sky on a moonless night. Oval in shape, Lawrence wagered it was big enough to hold Sanctuary and a half within its barreled chassis.

“This is our ship?” Illya asked, arching a brow at the vessel in disbelief. “Is...quite fancy.”

“Gorgeous,” Reed breathed in agreement, practically drooling from where he hovered beside Lawrence. “A third generation Star Skimmer! Modified, from the looks of it, but there’s no denying that sleek build, those R-16 Laserbit canon ports, that telltale rumble of a pair of Thunderwolf engines.”

Lawrence shrugged. “I told my source I wanted a good ship from a terrible person and he pointed me here,” he said.

“She has to be from the inner ring,” Reed continued to gush, still sounding star-struck as he drifted around Lawrence in a lazy circle. “No doubt stolen from a high-ranking official’s fleet. Something this beautiful doesn’t wind up on this side of the galaxy unless she’s gotten wrapped up in something awful.”

“Well, that’s what we’re hoping for, right?” Grinning, Waverly gave Reed a nudge forward. “Let’s scope the place out. Maybe we can just commandeer the thing without a hassle.”

“No fun in that,” Illya muttered, but followed after his friends anyway.

As they neared the entrance to the ship’s open cargo hold, they paused to observe the handful of crew members work. Most were loading boxes and crates of provisions aboard for their next journey, but there were still a few things being unloaded and carted down the rickety gangway plank onto semi-solid land. By the end of the gangway, a woman clad in a fairly official looking uniform stood speaking to another less than appealing gentleman.

“The captain?” Reed suggested, eyes on the woman.

“Probably,” Lawrence muttered, squinting at her. If she was toting cargo that was as bad as Michael seemed to be hinting at, she was doing a great job of making it all seem inconspicuous. “Unmarked crates headed towards an unknown location. You think it’s worth checking out?”

“It almost always is,” Waverly replied. “But we shouldn’t just jump into this. I think we need to get some information from the captain.”

Lawrence made a face. “Let me guess: you think I should pose as a potential customer and find out exactly what kind of cargo we’re dealing with here.”

“We have a winner!” Waverly exclaimed, giving him a pat on the back. “You’re good at acting, right? You can do this no problem, baby.”

Wanting to buy the captain’s goods without actually knowing what they were was going to take some serious chatting up. He had never been much of an actor, even when he was trotting around as Handsome Jack on Helios, but he could bullshit up a storm thanks to college. He just hoped he could put those skills to use verbally for once.

“I want a reward for all of this,” he groused as he once again became visible to the outside world.

“Well, we keep offering you sex,” Reed pointed out with a grin and a wink. “Other than that, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to accept good karma as a reward for helping us.”

Lawrence felt his cheeks heat up as he began to make his way towards the captain. “If I make it through this, maybe I’ll finally take you up on that offer,” he grumbled under his breath, knowing that the trio would hear him.

The captain glanced up at him as he got closer and didn’t bother hiding her irritation at his interruption. Deciding to play the part of a dumb, desperate customer, Lawrence flashed her a disarming smile and continued forward.

“Uh, hi,” he blurted, offering a lame, limp handshake towards the woman, who reluctantly returned the gesture. “I heard you’re the woman to go to for, uh, certain purchases.”

At that, the woman’s sharp eyes slid to the man she’d been speaking to, silently telling him to bugger off. He did so without a word, disappearing back into the bustling street of Hogback Harbor. Once they were alone, the woman turned back to Lawrence and introduced herself.

“Captain Elaine Morgan,” she said through a thick accent. “And you are?”

“A potential customer, I hope,” Lawrence said. “Friends call me Tim, though.”

Morgan hummed, feigning interest. “I’m not sure how I could be of service to you, Mr. Tim, but I’ll hear you out,” she offered. “What can I do for you?”

“Uh, well, I-I asked around, near The Colonel’s Daughter. They pointed me in your direction, ma’am. Said you were the best in the business and that I shouldn’t trust anyone else with my, er, kinds of needs.”

The captain’s brow crease grew less noticeable the more flattery Lawrence shoved at her. “I suppose not,” she said, sniffing. “I don’t normally do this outside of the company. Official paperwork to file and all of that. But business has been slow lately and I suppose it won’t hurt to at least show you what I’ve to offer.”

Lawrence offered her a toothy grin. “I’d appreciate it, ma’am.”

Morgan hummed, pulled her vest straight, and then started up the gangway towards the black belly of her ship. Lawrence hurried after her and appreciated the wave of reassurance Reed sent to him. He was probably walking into a trap, but at least he had his friends with him in case he needed backup.

The hallways of the _Black Harrier_ were just as sleek and neat as her exterior. Clean-looking men and women strode by with a salute and nod in their captain’s general direction as they went about preparing for takeoff.

Maybe Michael was wrong, Lawrence began to think as they went deeper into the ship’s black bowels. Nothing about this vessel screamed “illegal” let alone as awful as the loot trader seemed to allude to. The captain spoke all business, her crew was on point, and there wasn’t one thing out of order no matter where Lawrence looked.

After another few minutes of navigating the ship’s bowels, Captain Morgan lead him into one of the many rooms branching off from the hold. The room’s door, a thick slab of steel, only slid open when the captain put her eye up to the small retina scanner just to the right of it. The computer dinged with approval, and Morgan led Lawrence inside.

“There we are,” she said, gesturing with a manicured hand towards the rows of barred cages that lined the narrow pathway. “The one on the end there is reserved for another paying customer in town, but you may have your pick of the rest.”

Dozens of sad, watery eyes peered back at Lawrence as he stood there, frozen in place from complete shock. A bolt of pain jabbed him in the skull as one of his comrades erupted into fury, only to be whisked away to the far reaches of the planet by his lovers before he could materialize and destroy everything within a ten mile radius of the _Black Harrier_ and its poor cargo.

“You all right, sir?” the captain of said vessel asked, tilting her head at him.

“Y-yes,” he choked out, rubbing his brow. “Just - it’s awfully stuffy down here. How do I know none of these...products are sickly? I don’t want to spend my hard-earned money on an asthmatic.”

The words were burning his tongue as they rolled out of his mouth. He felt sicker than he had in a long time, and without Reed there to flush him with good, calming sensations, he was afraid he might do something drastic to this terrible, awful person in front of him.

“You don’t have to worry about that, sir,” Morgan replied, ever in business-mode. “Every child is hand-picked by my superiors before we’re sent to retrieve them. If you aren’t satisfied with your purchase, rest assured we will do everything we can to remedy the situation.”

“I see.” Lawrence’s mind was on autopilot now; he could sense Illya’s rage from across the globe and yearned to go to his side, but couldn’t risk blowing his cover yet - not when this was clearly more than just some creepazoid kidnapping children for trade. There was a whole corporation at work here, and Lawrence was already concocting a way to tear it down piece by piece, starting with this sick woman in front of him.

He cleared his throat and made his way over to the closest cage - the one with the reserved child. The boy inside was probably around Johnny’s age, with big, sad eyes and hair so blond it was almost white. Too young to be away from his family, from home. Too young for any of this.

“Real shame this one’s reserved,” he commented, trying to hold the poor child’s gaze. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, “You think I could talk to the customer, maybe offer a better price for the kid?”

Morgan’s face remained as impassive as ever. “I’m afraid that’s classified. Not many people would want their names revealed to the public in regards to this kind of business, you see.”

“So why do it?” Lawrence blurted, turning to face her. He could feel the others jumping back towards him, all trembling with the rage that Lawrence felt leaking out from between his bones and cartilage. “Why take these kids away from their families and drop them into the hands of sick people?”

“Money, Mr. Tim,” Morgan answered, unabashed. Her hand was straying towards the gun holstered at her hip. “It’s always money. Who do you work for?”

“No one,” Lawrence replied. His stance was also shifting as he shed his customer persona. “I came to town looking for a terrible individual to steal from and found you. I didn’t know what your cargo was until just now.”

“And what do you plan on doing now that you know, Mr. Tim?”

“Me? Nothing.” Lawrence tilted his head. “But my friend Illya has something he’d like to say to you, if you don’t mind.”

No sooner as he’d spoken those words, Illya materialized out of the wall, all purple-white flame and fury condensed into a speeding locomotive in human form. Captain Morgan had no chance of even drawing her gun - Illya was on her in the blink of an eye, shoving her so hard into the wall that the entire ship gave a groan of protest. The children in the nearby cages whimpered and did their best to get away from the fight, but Reed was suddenly there as well, working his calming magic over the lot of them.

Lawrence blinked, and then Waverly was also in the room, at his side with her arms folded over her chest. “If you ever see that source of yours again,” she began, “tell him thank you.”

By the time Illya was done pummeling Captain Morgan, she was nothing more than a broken, bloodied mess too weak to hold her own head up.

“Who do you work for?” he snarled, giving her body a shake. “Tell me! Who is your superior?”

Morgan let out a gurgle that might have been a laugh. Blood bubbled from between her lips as she went limp in Illya’s grasp, taking her secrets with her to her grave. Illya let out a roar and hurled her body across the hold.

At that same moment, a few crew members came running into the room, all armed and looking around wildly at the scene before them. Lawrence had hoped that the crew had been clueless to their captain’s cargo, but they didn’t even bat an eye at the cages and instead turned to open fire on Illya. Illya made quick work of them, tearing through their ranks like they were paper cutouts of men and women instead of flesh and bone. Lawrence knew that the other crew members that hadn’t heard the ruckus would suffer similar fates very soon.

Once the waves of crew members stopped coming, the only sounds came from the ship’s engines and Illya’s labored grunts of rage. It took both Reed and Waverly to calm him down.

Lawrence left them to it, knowing that he’d probably only make the situation worse, and turned to face the rows of cages. With a thought, he burnt the locks clean off of them. Only a handful of children moved, still too frightened and traumatized to even realize what the open doors meant for them. Those that did make their way out bolted to Lawrence’s side, blubbering and whimpering for their moms and dads.

“You’re safe now,” he assured them quietly. “We won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

“He took Josh,” one of the little girls was blubbering into his leg. “He took him right before you showed up. You have to save him, too.”

Lawrence blinked down at her, startled. “Who did?”

“A man with big muscles and a mustache.”

“Gonna have to be more descriptive than that, kiddos.”

“He had a picture of a bird,” one of the other kids supplied, pointing at a spot on his forearm. “Right here.”

He blinked, and suddenly he was envisioning the bartender at The Colonel’s Daughter, the one with the old hawk tattoo on his arm. A jolt of pure rage snap down Lawrence’s spine, causing the others to turn and face him in question.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised them, unable to keep the viciousness out of his tone. “Take care of the rest of the crew.”

With a thought, he was back at The Colonel’s Daughter, standing in the dim doorway of the establishment. The bartender was still behind the counter tending to his customers and didn’t bat an eye at Lawrence as he rolled up to the counter.

“Where’s the kid?” he snapped as soon as he was within earshot.

The bartender didn’t even blink. “Don’t know what you mean - ”

Lawrence wrapped his fist in the man’s shirt and yanked him halfway over the counter. “You were in contact with Captain Morgan,” he hissed into the startled man’s ear. “You bought something from her. It’s in your best interest to hand him over before I really, really hurt you.”

He didn’t expect this kind of interrogation method to go smoothly, so when the bartender pulled a gun on him and shot him through the chest, Lawrence wasn’t surprised - nor was he terribly wounded. Literally shaking off the bullet in his lung, he twisted the gun out of the bartender’s hand and jammed the barrel of it into his mouth, pulling the trigger in one fluid motion.

As the patrons began to flee in terror, Lawrence made for the door marked “Employees Only” behind the counter. He bolted up the stairs to the second floor, knowing that if the bartender had a kid, they’d be somewhere up here. Sure enough, upon breaking down the first locked door he came across, he found what he was searching for.

Still, the sight of Joshua, Keith Sander’s youngest son, sitting huddled in the corner of the dark room with his knees drawn to his chest was not what Lawrence had expected to see. This kind of thing - it happened to everyone else. Not people he knew. Not someone he spent time with and came to care for.

Unfortunately, everyone was “someone else” to someone else.

“Josh,” Lawrence gasped, simultaneously elated and swallowing back the hot vomit that threatened to spill out of him. He stumbled forward as if on autopilot. “Oh god, oh my god - are you okay?”

The boy picked his head up, frightened, only to gradually become more and more astonished as he realized who the man standing before him was. “Lawrence?” he choked out as his dirty face scrunched up with a fresh round of tears. He scrambled to his feet, only to trip and fall thanks to the shackles dangling from his ankles.

Lawrence was at his side in an instant, evaporating the metal chains and drawing the blubbering boy into his arms. He’d grown in the last few years, but he was still just a child. He didn’t deserve this trauma. None of those poor kids on the _Black Harrier_ did.

“How did this happen?” he asked as he rose to his feet. Joshua remained firmly wrapped around him as they began to make their way out of this hellish place.

“I ran away,” Joshua said in between hiccups. “I-I just wanted to see Shiny again. I was gonna come back to Sanctuary, I swear, but that big ship came down out of nowhere and they grabbed me. I wanna go home, Lawrence, please, I want my mom - ”

Lawrence shushed him. “I’m gonna get you back to them,” he promised. “I just gotta make a quick pit stop first. Okay?”

The kid nodded against his shoulder. He was shuddering with exhaustion, but his grip around Lawrence’s neck remained strong, like he was afraid that if he let go, he’d be snatched up by evil people again. Lawrence increased his grip on the boy, stupidly fearful of the same thing.

As soon as he was back on the street, Lawrence made a mental flick that had the support beams beneath The Colonel’s Daughter snapping in half. The structure gave a great rumble before tumbling down the side of the ridge, patrons and all. Lawrence didn’t bother sparing it a glance as he made his way back to the _Black Harrier_.

He found Illya, Waverly and Reed in the control room of the ship with Reed perched at the helm, trying to get a feel for their new vessel. Scattered around their feet were the dozens of kids that had been locked away in the ship’s hold; most were asleep while others were gnawing away at some rations the soldiers had dug out for them.

Waverly was looking over a holopad when she noticed his arrival and nodded at him. “Last of the little ones?” she asked, eyeing Joshua’s slumbering form.

Lawrence nodded and drew Joshua close. “I know him,” he whispered, earning three horrified looks from the ship’s adult occupants. “I’m going to take him home in a bit. Did you find anything useful in the ship’s logs?”

“Oh yes,” Waverly replied, giving the holopad in her hands a flick. “We’ve got names and locations and flight paths to work with. These sick fucks have been operating all over this side of the galaxy for far too long.”

Lawrence raised his brows. “You guys are gonna go after them?” he asked. “I thought your plan was to get as far away from this side of the galaxy as possible.”

Waverly shrugged, then sent a subtle look towards Illya. The hulking man was tending to one of the children, the little blond boy Lawrence had pretended to fawn over earlier. His movements were gentle, calculated - a far cry from how he’d been tearing into the ship’s captain and crew a few minutes earlier.

Lawrence approached him after a moment. “This hit you hard,” he chanced timidly.

Illya nodded slowly. He looked so tired, and not just from unleashing hell. “My sister and I,” he began shakily. “We were taken as children. Separated. It was only because Dahl raided the slaver vessel I was on that I was able to escape. No clue where sister is. Probably dead. Hopefully dead.”

Lawrence swallowed hard and put his free hand on the man’s shoulder in a gentle squeeze. “You’ve done a good thing today, Illya. I’m sure your sister would be proud.”

Illya let out a strangled noise. “I will make her proud,” he agreed, rising to his feet. He turned to face his comrades, his expression firm. “I want to take these children home. And whoever Morgan had been working for - I want to find them and tear their business down.”

Waverly and Reed exchanged looks before quickly coming to a unanimous agreement: “We’re in.”

Illya’s shoulders slumped with relief as he regarded his partners with a tired smile. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Maybe we need this,” Waverly added as an afterthought. “We had a purpose as part of the Lost Legion. Maybe having one again will deter the hive from trying to suck you back in,” she said, looking to Reed.

“It’s possible,” the private said, offering her a hopeful smile. “If nothing else, we’ll finally be doing something worthwhile with our free time.”

Illya looked down at the children. “Very true.”

Turning back around, Reed ran his hands over the ship’s controls, humming with glee. “She’ll need a new name,” he mused out loud. He sent Illya a look over his shoulder. “How about the _Freedom Cry_?”

A small, toothy grin flashed across the giant’s face. “I like that,” he said. “Will need new paint job, too.”

“I can see it now,” Reed said, holding his hands up as he squinted through the gaps between his thumbs. “No longer black, but a gleaming white-gold - a beacon of hope instead of a creeping harbinger of death.”

Lawrence grinned. “Cheesy, but I think it’ll work. You guys, uh, leaving soon?” he asked, quickly growing sober.

Reed nodded as he began to punch things into the console in front of him. “A few of these anklebiters are from planets close by,” he said. “I’ve already plotted a course. The sooner we get them home, the better.”

Lawrence hummed in agreement as he shifted Joshua’s weight around. “This is goodbye, then.”

The trio stopped what they were doing and sent him looks of mild regret. They had all been avoiding this conversation for a while despite knowing it was bound to happen eventually.

“You could always come with us,” Waverly suggested, sounding hopeful. It contrasted with the look of resignation shining in her dark eyes.

Lawrence swallowed hard and shook his head. “My home is here,” he said, pausing to clear his throat when his voice came out scratchy with emotion. Dammit, he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. “I have to get Josh home, too. I-I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.”

“It’s all right, baby,” Waverly said, coming over to wrap him up in a hug. She kissed his brow, sending a familiar jolt of energy down his spine. “We’ll meet again, I’m sure.”

Reed and Illya also moved to offer him their goodbyes. Their touches were fleeting yet intimately familiar, and for one second Lawrence was horribly tempted to take them up on their offer. Traveling the spaceways, saving children and tearing down gross corporations - it was certainly better than hanging out on this dusty old rock for the rest of his life.

But his thoughts drifted to that beautiful island up north with the stupid name where a little boy, two digital doubles, and a handsome, lonely commando were waiting for him, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

With Joshua tucked tightly against him, Lawrence made his way down the gangway and watched as the _Black Harrier_ , now known as the _Freedom Cry_ , began to make its preparations for takeoff. Its engines grew louder as the vessel began to lift higher into the air and turn itself about for a quick blast off.

“Where are they going?” Joshua murmured, peering up at the shiny ship as it began to shoot skyward. It was gone in a blink, becoming nothing more than one of the trillions of glowing dots that spanned the dusky sky.

“On an adventure,” Lawrence supplied. And hopefully far, far away from Elpis’ grasp.

Joshua huffed and turned away. “I’m done with adventures,” he grumbled. “Let’s go home.”

Lawrence smiled into the boy’s hair. “Let’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: the _Black Harrier_ and its crew deal with child slavery, thus it's "loot" is children. 
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	74. Chapter 74

Axton was staring at Lawrence from his spot by the sink, arms folded across his chest and his eyes wide open as he struggled to digest everything he’d just heard in the past hour and a half.

Lawrence held his gaze, trying not to appear as nervous as he felt. He’d spilled his guts to the man, given him reason not to hate him for being away for so long - and yet Lawrence wouldn’t have blamed him in the slightest if he chose to kick him to the curb.

“So,” Axton began slowly, “in a span of, what, four months, you not only came back from the dead, you also managed to get control over your god-tier powers, take a dangerous-as-fuck trip back to Elpis for the sake of your new god-tier friends, and jump-start a child trafficking ring’s demise by killing one of its top nabbers.”

“To sum up, yes.”

“And yet there was still no foursome.”

Lawrence shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”

Axton hummed. The room fell silent. Outside a seabird squawked, and if Lawrence listened hard, he could hear the ocean lapping up on the beach. It should have been very peaceful, but the mounting tension in the kitchen was making him nervous.

“Now what?” he chanced asking when the silence became too much to bear.

“I don’t know,” Axton muttered, scowling at his own words. “I mourned you. I accepted the fact that you were dead and never comin’ back. I was - I was so close to movin’ on, Law. And now you’re back, and everythin’ I’ve been through up until now feels meaningless.”

Lawrence swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Do you...want me to go?”

It took Axton a long time to form a reply. “I-I dunno,” he rasped, turning around to brace his hands on the sink again. “This is too much for me to take in right now. I need time to think.”

A wildfire was spreading throughout Lawrence’s veins, consuming him from the inside out. “All right,” he whispered, rising to his feet. His body moved on autopilot as he headed for the door and fumbled with the knob. Every last inch of him was protesting, but he couldn’t disrespect Axton’s wishes. He’d done enough damage to the man.

He was just stumbling out onto the boardwalk when he heard a strangled noise from inside the house, and then a frantic, “Wait!”

Lawrence almost tripped over his own two feet as he turned to find the commando standing in the doorway, wild-eyed and panting. “Yes…?” he chanced when Axton failed to spit anything else out.

"I just...I've realized how much I hate watchin’ you disappear from my life," he choked out. "It keeps happenin’ and I can't fuckin' stand it, Law. I'm sick of it."

Lawrence stared at him, confused and blinking back tears. "What do you want me to do?"

"Stay." Axton moved into his space. "Just - stay with me. Come home."

The plea rendered Lawrence a whimpering, gross mess for half a second. Then he was nodding, and Axton was taking him by the wrist and pulling him back into the house.

Lawrence collapsed back into the chair at the kitchen table, trembling from nerves. Axton didn’t seem any better off as he immediately began throwing together some food, more so as a way of keeping his hands busy than to actually fend off hunger. He put a pot of water on the stove, and while it heated up, he began to remove the excess sand from clams he'd snagged earlier.

"Hope you like clam soup," the commando muttered. His shoulders were tight as he placed the clams in a bowl of cold salt water.

Lawrence swallowed hard. "Love it."

Several minutes later, the two men were sitting across from each other at the table with identical steaming hot bowls of the stuff. Lawrence wished he could taste it. He had learned to use his sense of smell to translate how something could theoretically taste, and this simple soup smelled divine.

"You don't have to eat it if you don't want to," Axton said suddenly, setting his spoon down. "I just remembered your whole thing with food tastin' gross."

"It's fine. I can appreciate it even if I can't taste it."

Axton's lips twisted with what Lawrence hesitated to call a smile. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but wound up shaking his head and rising to his feet. He didn't give Lawrence much chance to react before he leaned over the small table and kissed him.

Though it was brief, Lawrence was still in mild shock when the commando pulled away.

"I was gonna make a lame joke," Axton murmured against his lips, "about you bein' able to taste _this_ or somethin'. Somethin' stupid."

Lawrence choked on a small laugh and smiled. "I've missed your dumb pickup lines," he admitted. He paused, then decided to hell with it. "Wanna makeout?"

Axton's small smile morphed into a grin he couldn't contain as Lawrence drew him around the table and into his lap. The poor chair beneath him groaned in protest, but neither man took notice, too absorbed in each other. Axton straddled Lawrence's thighs as they kissed again, deeper, longer. Lawrence was elated to discover that despite their time apart, the commando still tasted the same: like gunpowder and sea salt.

Axton sighed as Lawrence moved away from his lips and began to pepper his suntanned neck with sucking kisses that were sure to bruise. "I wanna see you," he murmured. "I wanna see all of you before I let you in my bed again."

Lawrence shuddered at the very idea of being allowed in Axton's bed after everything. "I'll show you," he said, urging the other man up so that he could stand. It was the least he could do for him.

They went down to the beach where the sun-warmed water came up to their ankles. The sand was grainy beneath Lawrence's toes, but the sensation was fleeting as he lifted into the air, propelled by wings not quite visible on this plane.

"Close your eyes," he said softly.

Axton obeyed without question. As soon as they were shut, Lawrence dropped his walls and unfurled his wings. His skin lit up with light as the sigils dancing across his body ignited with a flash of purple heat. He almost didn’t take his clothes off, but Axton wanted all of him, so that was what he was going to get. With a thought, his clothes were gone, tucked away into the same space he kept his wings when he wanted them hidden.

"Open," he breathed.

The sound of Lawrence's voice made the commando jerk and blink open his eyes. The look that dawned on his face as he observed his lover was neither terror nor disgust - just pure, unadulterated awe. For a second he moved forward as if to touch Lawrence, but aborted the motion halfway, remembering himself.

"Touch me," Lawrence begged, bringing himself back down to earth. His wings flickered in protest, but he swallowed the urge to spread them and run just as he had with his fellow Eridium-infected brethren. He was done running now.

Axton visibly swallowed and shuffled into Lawrence's space. He lifted his hands and, after a split second of hesitation, brought them to Lawrence's scarred cheeks.

"Warm," the commando muttered, rubbing his thumbs lightly across the puckered flesh of the brand.

"How did you expect me to feel?"

"I dunno. I half expected my hands to melt off," Axton said, flashing him a small, teasing smirk. "Is it easier for you to be like this?"

"I wouldn't say easier, no. It's just another version of me," he answered, shrugging. His wings bobbed with the motion.

“Well, good. As cool as this version of you is, I think I prefer the one with, y’know, discernable features.”

Lawrence laughed. “Me too,” he admitted, and with a blink, he was back to being fleshy and wingless, briefly startling the commando. He grew sober soon enough, no doubt realizing that this was the crazy shit he was signing up for.

A small grin gradually appeared on Axton's face as he withdrew his hands. "I'm dating an alien god," he mused quietly. “Neat.”

"Manmade alien god," Lawrence corrected, feeling himself turn red at the praise. "So, uh, I take it that means you're fine with...this?”

“‘This’ meanin’ what, that you occasionally sprout wings and glow like a rocket’s thrusters? Yeah I’m fine with it - just don’t do that shit in the middle of the night when I’m tryin’ to sleep.”

Lawrence swallowed hard as giddiness and nausea threatened to overwhelm him. “I - that’s - that’s fine, I won’t. But I meant ‘this’ as in, fine that we’re together again.”

Axton hummed as he turned and started back towards the house. When Lawrence didn’t follow right away, he shot him a look over his shoulder that plainly stated that he should keep up if he wanted what his cocked eyebrow was suggesting.

Lawrence fell three times in his rush to keep up with the commando. “A-are you sure, though?” he babbled as soon as he tripped over the threshold. “This - it - are you sure we’re not, like, rushing back into this?”

Axton threw out an arm to catch him and flashed a toothy grin for the first time since Lawrence showed up. "I've never been so sure of anything in my life."

~

That much had been true right up until Lawrence was getting ready to yank Axton's pants down. The commando was perched on the edge of his bed upstairs with Lawrence kneeling between his legs. Lawrence looked up to find the man frowning slightly, though his cheeks remained flushed with lust even as he spoke.

"I'm, uh," Axton sucked in a breath, "not as fit as I used to be. Fair warning."

Lawrence had already taken note of the pudge around his middle and how it was sticking out a little over the rim of pants. "You've got a dad bod now," Lawrence told him, grinning. "It's hot."

Axton rolled his eyes, scoffing, but he couldn't hide the blush on his cheeks. "Shut up. It's dad flab and you know it."

"Still hot no matter what you call it."

Lawrence rid Axton of his pants and began to kiss his way down the inside of his thighs - his glorious, perfect thighs - until finally he found the gold at the end of the rainbow. He wasted little time in taking Axton into his mouth and letting out an appreciative groan at the taste, the feel. The rest of Axton might have been a little different, but this hadn't changed. The scent invading his nose as he buried it against the nest of dark brown hair on his groin was the same. The little "oh" the commando let out as Lawrence swallowed as much of him as he could was the same.

God, how he'd missed this. Not just the sex. He missed being this close to Axton, being in his space, being allowed to feel him so intimately.

He could feel tears welling up in his eyes that weren't a result of having something large lodged in his throat. He blinked them away and picked up his pace, determined not to ruin this moment.

Axton's breathing grew harsher the more enthusiastic Lawrence got. A peek up revealed that Axton's eyes had drifted shut and his head had tilted backwards with pleasure. His chest heaved with each stuttering gasp he made; Lawrence couldn't resist reaching up to rub his thumb over a pink nipple.

"Fuck," Axton choked out. His thighs flexed uncontrollably, briefly trapping Lawrence's head between them. Lawrence swallowed around the intrusion in his throat, humming with surprise and delight, until something snapped in the other man.

With a strangled half-cry, Axton seized him by the sides of his face and brought their lips crashing together with enough force to send them tumbling onto the floor. Lawrence grunted as Axton landed on top of him, but the commando never broke their kiss, far too revved up to take into account any pain or discomfort.

Axton kept one hand tangled in Lawrence's hair to keep him still while they kissed, and his other snaked down Lawrence's front to the fly of his jeans. Suddenly Lawrence had a warm, familiar hand on his cock; he gasped and arched against the touch, squirming.

"S-slow down," he managed to spit out. "We've got some time, right?”

The other man chuckled against Lawrence's neck. "Spoken like a man who's never had kids. Just 'cos dinner's in three hours doesn't mean Johnny won't pop in. In fact, the chances are pretty high. Haven't seen him in a while."

As he spoke, he brought two of his fingers up to slide past Lawrence's lips. He sucked around them dutifully, slathering them with as much spit as he could muster, until Axton couldn't take the stimulation anymore and pulled them away with a slick pop.

Lawrence spread his legs as much as he could with his pants still clinging desperately to his hips, but Axton didn't move to touch him down below. Instead, he sat back on his knees and reached for his own posterior to finger himself open.

"Jeez," Lawrence gasped, his wide, hungry gaze on the movement happening between the man's legs.

Axton preferred to take care of himself when it came to fucking, often distracting Lawrence's thirsty gaze with searing kisses. Now, though, Lawrence could see almost everything - from the commando's very erect cock bobbing mere inches from his face to the thick fingers disappearing into his ass.

"Must be a special occasion if you're letting me watch."

Axton snorted, though his grin was tight as he shoved his fingers deeper. Lawrence wasn't sure how often Axton did this to himself - the thought that it was a fairly rare occurrence made Lawrence's loins curl with lust - but there was no way he was going in with only spit to slick the way.

"Lube?" Lawrence asked, propping himself up on his elbows.

Axton was already getting to his feet and fetching a bottle out of the small bedside table. A guilty look flickered across the man's face. "I haven't been...I've seen other people," he admitted, voice deep for a reason other than lust now.

Lawrence swallowed hard. It was inevitable, really. He had to keep reminding himself that while it had only been a few months for him, it had been two years for Axton. "Honestly, I would have been concerned if you hadn't," he said softly. "I told you not to wait for me, remember?"

"Yeah." Axton cleared his throat and popped open the bottle. He made no move to pour any into his hand. "I thought..."

Lawrence sat up, startled at just how wrecked the man suddenly sounded. Axton stood hunched over, his head low, his expression tight with emotion. The bottle of lube slipped from his hand.

"I thought you were dead," he choked out. His eyes were watery, but Axton had probably stopped shedding tears for him years ago. "I thought you were dead."

"Ax." Lawrence drew him into a hesitant embrace. He half expected to be shoved away, but Axton crumbled in his arms. He buried his face in Lawrence's shoulder and wound his arms around his back, gripping the material of his shirt. He shuddered soundlessly as Lawrence cooed quiet reassurances to him.

"I'm here," he whispered, running a hand over the man's trembling shoulders. "I'm here. I'm real. I'm home, Ax." Suddenly his eyes were filling with tears. "I came home."

They moved to the bed, still clinging to one another, and spent a long time simply wrapped up in each other's arms, getting reacquainted with how the other felt against them. Nothing had changed about this either, aside from having a bit more of Axton to hold. There was nothing wrong with that, as far as Lawrence was concerned.

"Well, that ruined the moment," Axton grumbled after a while. He didn't meet Lawrence's eyes when he finally pulled away and sat back on his haunches. They both looked rather silly at the moment, half-dressed with their mostly flaccid cocks out to greet the world.

"It was gonna happen eventually," Lawrence said. He paused, then tossed out, "I almost broke down while I had your dick in my mouth, if that makes you feel any better about crying over lube."

That wrenched a gravelly laugh from the other man. "What? Why?"

"I was just...so happy to be with you again. I never thought I'd get the chance." He sucked in a wet breath. "I didn't think you'd want me to. I thought you would have moved on to someone else by now."

"I tried," Axton said quietly. "There was nothing left of the preserve after you blasted it to shit. Everything was gone. Including you. And I fuckin' _tried_ to move on. I've screwed around, tried to make it work with Ellie. But nobody ever...stuck to me the way you did."

Lawrence squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as his chest constricted violently. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, bringing his hands up to cover his face, to hide his tears as they finally broke free and began rolling down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen. I was so stupid. I didn’t know how to control my powers and it - it destroyed me, it destroyed _us_ , and I’m so, so sorry, Axton - “

The commando scooted across the bed to wrap him in an embrace. “But you’ve learned how to control them,” he said over Lawrence’s pathetic whimpers. “You’re stronger now - in more ways than one.”

He was. If he could travel back in time - hell, he probably could if he really wanted to - and stand before the sad, broken man he had been shortly after waking from Jack’s control, he would have a number of things to tell him. “You’ll be okay,” and “It’s worth it,” would probably have the biggest impact on his past self, but “You’re stronger than you think you are” would mean so much more to him later on when he was lost and confused and alone.

Lawrence started to wipe away his tears. “I wouldn’t have come back if I wasn’t sure I was safe to be around,” he agreed. “It took a while, but now feel like I can finally be around with again without hurting them.”

Axton’s breath caught in his throat. “Tell me you’re here to stay,” he rasped. Lawrence opened his mouth, but Axton put a finger over his lips. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m here as long as you want me to be,” Lawrence told him. “If you’ll have m - ”

He barely had the sentence out when Axton literally tackled him onto the bed and kissed him senseless. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he managed to gasp out right before Axton’s lips claimed his again in a searing, biting kiss that made him see stars. “Fuck, Ax…!”

“That’s the idea, yeah.” Axton leaned back, revealing that he was more than ready to continue where they had left off.

Twenty minutes later, Lawrence was balls-deep inside the writhing commando when the door swung open without warning, revealing Johnny. After suffering from a mini-heart attack that lasted half a second, Lawrence hissed and curled behind Axton, trying to shield both of them from the kid's eyes.

"Johnny!" Axton barked. He didn't seem embarrassed by the intrusion, just irritated. "You know to knock first if my door's closed. What's wrong?"

“Gaige is here," Johnny signed, then gave his metal leg a wiggle and grinned.

"All right," Axton said, smiling at him. "Tell her I'll be down in five minutes, okay?"

Johnny nodded and darted down the hallway, leaving the door wide open. Axton heaved a sigh and went to pull away from Lawrence, but Lawrence was loathe to let him go.

"Noo," he whined, wrapping his arms around Axton's chest. "Not yet."

"Law." Axton sputtered out a strained laugh as he tried and failed to brute-force his way out of Lawrence's vice grip. All he managed to do was flatten himself on the mattress with Lawrence on top of him. "You're gonna break my back, ass. Get off."

"We've got five minutes," Lawrence insisted, sucking a mark onto the back of the commando's neck.

"You're gonna make me come in five minutes? Less than that now?"

“You underestimate my powers.”

Axton huffed out another laugh, but it was short-lived. “You’re gonna have to see them all eventually, you know,” he murmured. “I’m sure once the shock and anger fades, they’ll be more than happy to see you, like I was. Athena and Gaige especially. Your death hasn’t been easy on any of us.”

Lawrence’s grip around Axton’s torso tightened. “I know,” he whispered into the man’s back. Working up the courage to see Axton had been damn near impossible. Facing his other two besties was going to be just as hard. “Will you be there with me when I do show myself to them? To everyone?”

“Course,” Axton said, finally wiggling out of his grasp. Lawrence let him go and watched, only a little saddened, as the man began to don his clothing. The commando chucked him his pants and flashed him a crooked grin. “Ready to tackle one of those lovely ladies now?”

Despite the anxiousness pounding in his chest, Lawrence couldn’t resist returning the other man’s smile. “Yeah,” he said through a heavy, determined sigh. “Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was technically the final chapter of Not Jack! The epilogue will be up on Friday. :) Thank you guys so much for reading this lil' ol' story of mine!! 
> 
> See my tumblr for chapter notes: vickjawn.tumblr.com/notjacknotes


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. With this update, Not Jack is officially over. Thank you guys so much - whether you just gave this story a glance or gave it kudos and reviewed every chapter since day one, I appreciate everything you guys have done for me. I wouldn't have been able to do this without the support. :')

Sunlight poured into the front bedroom of a little blue beachside bungalow through its single wide, shadeless window. Lawrence resisted its advances at first, content to snuggle with the familiar warm body beside him, but eventually Axton dislodged himself from Lawrence's thresher-like grip with a murmur of reassurance and a brief kiss on his brow.

Axton drifted into the bathroom, and the shower turned on a few minutes later, lulling Lawrence back into a light trance. It lasted for as long as he could resist the sun's insistence that he get off his ass and start his day like a responsible adult, which wasn’t anywhere near as long as Lawrence would have preferred.

He scratched at his sun-warmed tummy and yawned as he stretched his back and twisted his limbs until they were all adequately popped. More awake now, he lugged himself out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Axton was standing in front of the sink, still damp from his shower, and frowning deeply at the man who stared back at him in the mirror. Other than the beginnings of a fresh stubble and his tousled, wet locks, Lawrence couldn't see what upset the man so.

"I'm so goddamned old," Axton groused, bending forward to begin his daily routine of weeding out the gray in his hair.

"You're barely even thirty," Lawrence told him, rolling his eyes. Not this again. “You know you had some gray when we first met, right? It’s genetics, not age-related.”

“Shut up.”

Lawrence bit back a smile. He tilted his head as he watched the commando uncover a few strands of silver hiding against his scalp. "You're not plucking those, are you? You know what they say: pull one out, three more take its place."

"Shut up," Axton grumbled again. He frowned and shot Lawrence a glance through the mirror. "That's not true, is it?"

"I dunno. Pull a few and we’ll find out in a few days." Lawrence flashed him a shit-eating grin and slapped the commando's ass as he passed him to step into the shower. He was not shy about proclaiming how attractive he found Axton like this - salt and pepper hair and a lot softer than he used to be in certain areas (thankfully none that were crucial to the adventurous life they led in the bedroom). It irritated the hell out of the other man, which was partially why Lawrence liked to needle him about it.

Still snickering to himself, Lawrence turned on the shower and let out a shriek as he was hit with a blast of ice. "You used all the hot water, ass!"

"Serves you right, prick!" was the shouted reply from the other room.

Lawrence snorted and tried to stay angry, but the frown on his face was easily flipped upside down when Axton ambushed him after his shower for an apologetic blowjob.

Johnny was already at the kitchen table fiddling with one of his contraptions by the time Lawrence and Axton stumbled downstairs. Blue was sitting beside him aptly watching the kid work while Red remained alert and ramrod straight by the front door.

“Mornin’, y’all,” Lawrence droned to the trio through a yawn.

"Sunrise of goodness!" Blue said in reply, waving while his badass double merely nodded in greeting.

Axton shuffled past the boy genius and flicked the metal limb. “No leg on the table,” he quipped as he moved to get started on breakfast.

Johnny sighed and lugged his appendage onto the floor with a loud clatter. It wasn't unusual for him to take it off while sitting down, especially in the morning when he was just waking up. His leg was custom made to fit, but that didn't mean he wanted to wear it all the time.

"Don't tell me you need a new one already," Lawrence teased, flashing him a grin as he sat down next to him. "Gaige was only here a week ago."

Johnny frowned and reached under the table to rub at his stump.

"Are you hurting?" Lawrence asked softly, brow furrowing with concern.

Johnny nodded, frown deepening.

"C'mere." Lawrence pulled his chair closer to his and then patted his lap, prompting him to put his achy leg there. He began to massage the stump area, tapping into his powers to very, very gently soothe the stressed muscle and tissue.

Johnny gave a small sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat, eyelids drooping. Lawrence wondered if he had been up half the night tossing and turning with discomfort again. The bags under his eyes suggested his assumption might be right. Winter was coming, and even sunny Wam Bam Island was getting colder. They might have to think about moving somewhere warmer for Johnny’s sake.

Lawrence kept up his ministrations even after Axton came over with some scrambled rakk eggs and dagon fruit juice for Johnny to chow down on. Lawrence gave the meal a deep whiff and smiled at the commando. "Smells good," he said.

Axton flashed him a smile before he sat down with his own plate.

As was the case with most of their meals, Johnny spent most of it working on whatever new doohickey he’d whipped up seemingly overnight, only pausing to take gigantic bites of his food. Axton was slowly learning not to talk with his mouth full, or to at least put a hand in front of his mouth if he absolutely had to speak, so conversation was currently at an all-time low.

Lawrence didn’t mind. Conversation wasn’t always needed. Personally, he enjoyed just being in the company of his family. After being away from them for so long, he would take whatever interaction he could get, even if that was listening to them chew.

"So what's the schedule for today?" Axton asked eventually, looking at Johnny as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Lemme guess: you're gonna tuck yourself away in your workshop with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee until lunchtime, right? Then you're gonna surface, demand food, and then disappear until it's time to eat dinner."

While Johnny just shrugged and nodded, Blue blew a raspberry at him and vanished with a flush of particles, but not before sending a small, thumbnail-sized static burst in the commando's direction, giving him a nasty goodbye present.

"Ow! You little blue bastard!" Axton shrieked, almost falling out of his chair. His hair stood on end and when he went to smooth it down, he got another static shock from his chevrons. "Fuckin'...!"

"Language," Lawrence tutted. He caught Johnny's gaze, and then they were both laughing at the other man's misfortune.

"You guys are jerks," Axton muttered, moving to clean up. "I cooked you a nice breakfast and everything. Damn. I’m so unappreciated."

Lawrence stifled his giggles as he rose to his feet and hugged Axton from behind. The commando huffed and made a weak attempt to wiggle out of Lawrence's grasp, but gave up soon enough and resigned himself to washing dishes with a leech on his back.

"No. Don't touch me. You suck."

"We're sorry," Lawrence cooed, purposefully putting his lips close to the commando's ear so that he could feel his hot breath. "You're just so cute when you're flustered."

Axton puffed out his cheeks in an adorable pout that only further proved Lawrence’s point. He didn’t rag the commando about it, though, instead offering to wash the dishes for him. Axton threw the wet washcloth in his face and let him have at it.

Around noon, Athena stopped by. By the time Lawrence untangled himself from Axton’s sweaty grasp, threw some clothes on, and made it to the front door to let her in, the woman was a little more than irritated.

“Are you two ever not in bed?” she groused with an eyeroll.

“Sure,” Axton supplied as he handed her a mug of coffee. “Sometimes we do it on the couch and in the shower and on the table a little to the left of where you’re sittin' - ”

With an embarrassed squeak, Lawrence batted the commando away. “No perverts in the kitchen!” he yelled, pushing the cackling man back into the living room. “Finish the laundry and maybe you can come back in!”

“I own this house, you prick!” Axton yelled back in between his wheezing laughter. He disappeared upstairs anyway, giving the two old friends their privacy.

Lawrence sat back down and tried to appear professional despite the pink on his cheeks. “What were you saying?” he said, clearing his throat.

Athena’s mouth was twisting with a rare smile. “I’m glad you two are getting along again,” she said. “But I didn’t come all the way up here to praise you for that. I want to ask you something.”

He wondered what was important enough to warrant a visit instead of a quick call over the ECHOnet, especially since he knew Athena was up to her eyeballs in dealing with wedding preparations on top of her mercenary work. “What’s up?” he asked, leaning forward.

The woman let out a small, short sigh and tapped her nails on the coffee mug. “I was wondering,” she began slowly, “if you would like to be a part of my wedding.”

“Well, I was hoping I’d be invited!” Lawrence said through a laugh that quickly became a concerned cough. “I-I _am_ still invited, right? I said I was sorry for the whole dying thing - ”

“No, no, I mean,” Athena took another breath, “I want you to be my best man.”

Lawrence’s jaw dropped. “I...really? Me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Athena tilted her head. “You can say no. I just thought you might like the honor.”

“I - of course I’ll be your best man! Athena, I - ” His voice cracked with emotion as he jerked to his feet and wrapped his arms around the woman from behind. “This is the happiest day of my life.”

Athena chuckled and patted the arm coiled around his neck. There was a slouch in her shoulders that indicated she was pleased by his answer. “If you say so.”

Being the busy gladiator that she was, Athena bid both men goodbye shortly afterwards, saying something about a caravan that she needed to track down. From the boardwalk, Lawrence watched her disappear through the foliage.

An hour later, he and Axton headed down to the fishing pier to try to catch some dinner since their food supply was running a little too low for comfort. Fishing was probably the most boring thing ever, but Lawrence was eager to just be in Axton’s presence, even if the man was giggling over some stupid meme from the ECHOnet again.

A few dozen feet behind them down on the beach, Johnny was rooting through the sand for sea shells while Lawrence’s doubles kept a careful eye on him. Red caught Lawrence’s stare and gave him a jerky, awkward thumbs up that made Lawrence grin and return the gesture with ease.

“It’s been almost a month,” Axton pointed out suddenly, bringing Lawrence’s attention back to him. The commando was staring out to sea, a small smile on his face as he kicked his legs back and forth over the water. “Are you happy?”

“Yes,” Lawrence said, flashing the man a genuine smile.

Why wouldn’t he be? He was living with the love of his life and their adorable adopted kid on an island paradise. His friends had been furious when he finally made himself known to them, but Axton had been right; their anger had swiftly given way to relief and joy. Perhaps the best thing was that he no longer felt like he was a threat to any of the people he loved.

He’d gotten his happy ending. It was hard to believe such a thing even existed on this planet, but lo and behold.

Those thoughts about happy endings and justice stuck with him for the rest of the day. So many others hadn’t gotten theirs, and at least half of those poor sods had deserved one. He could think of one person in particular who had gotten the short end of the stick her entire life, and it was that sudden realization that made him bolt upright in the middle of the night, roll over, and shake his partner awake.

“I forgot something,” he said to the grumpy, bleary-eyed commando. “There's still one more thing I have to do." He hesitated. "Come with me?"

Axton cocked a brow. He had every right to be surprised and even a little suspicious after Lawrence had treated him the last time he accompanied him on one of his missions to find answers. "Sure," he replied nonetheless. "Where's it at?"

"Well," Lawrence turned to stare out their bedroom window, towards the dark mass that was the ocean. "I was hoping you could tell me."

~

The Bunker was not underground as Lawrence initially thought it would be. In fact, it was perched high upon a mountain in the middle of a pleasant-looking yet dangerous place called Thousand Cuts - completely visible and open for attack from anywhere. Axton had told him on the long drive over that the place had at one time been heavily guarded, but he and the other vault hunters had easily mowed the opposing forces down and made their way to the top of the fortress where Angel had been.

Now the place was deserted, save for some of Brick's Slabs, who were as friendly as brain-damaged. dehydrated bandits could be. The few that tried to stop them were easily taken care of by Axton's beloved turret.

"Won't Brick be upset?" Lawrence asked as they began the long climb up. "Those are his men, right?"

Axton shrugged. "They shot first."

Lawrence's heart was thumping wildly in his chest by the time they reached the top of the mountain, and not just because he was out of shape. The place had at one point been relatively clean-looking, but pieces of old Loader Bots and the giant remains of some sort of fighter ship littered the ground of the courtyard. The foliage that had one point been trimmed neatly and contained within pots and bins were now wild and overgrown, giving the place an even more haggard appearance.

Beneath the upper deck at the end of one of the staircases was a single doorway. Lawrence didn’t need Axton to tell him that they’d reached their destination.

The commando shot him a sideways glance. "You want me to wait out here?"

Lawrence almost told him no. "Yeah," he said shakily. This was something he had to do on his own. He gave the commando's hand a squeeze to silently relay his gratitude, then stepped forward into the small doorway.

"Preparing bio-scan," rang a cheerful, feminine voice, startling Lawrence. The Hyperion Voice Lady. He wondered how she was doing. "Please stand on the Hyperion emblem. Scanning bio-signature. "

He tried not to flinch as his body was enveloped in light courtesy of a small robot off to his left. It jerked a little, rusty from disuse, but eventually it settled and the light vanished as the scan was completed.

"Biosignature confirmed," the voice said. "Hello, sexy. Awaiting password."

Lawrence shut his eyes, held his breath for a second, then opened them as he exhaled. "I love you."

Axton had told him the password on the ride over and subsequently had to pull the runner over so that Lawrence could blow up a small mountain in a fit of rage, because how dare he, how dare Handsome Jack use that of all things as the password to his daughter's tomb? Just saying it now made Lawrence's chest hurt so badly that he had to put a hand over his heart to calm down.

"Access granted."

The door gave a loud hiss as it opened. An elevator sat just beyond the door. Lawrence stepped onto it, momentarily afraid that it might not hold his weight, but it did. With a shaking, sweaty palm, he pressed the large red button on the console pad and began to descend into the dark bowels of Angel's chambers.

The elevator dropped him into another open room that had seen better days. Being secluded underground didn't excuse it from accumulating dust and dirt from over the years, he noted as he began to move. He headed down the hallway, his steps echoing loudly in the abandoned corridor, until he came upon yet another dark, dusty room. A door sat off to the right, half open and bent out of shape. Beyond it, Lawrence could see the interior of a much larger chamber.

He was shaking violently by the time he wedged himself through the gap in the door. As soon as he was in Angel's main chamber, he fell to his knees, weighed down by ghosts and his own heavy thoughts and feelings. The air was so thick he felt like he was inhaling water.

For a long time he couldn't move from his spot on the floor, paralyzed by the past.

There were signs of past battles everywhere in the forms of broken Loader Bots and shattered glass from the tubes dangling from the ceiling near the center of the room. A huge, imposing machine extended from the ceiling, old and dark with disuse. Lawrence already knew what the machine did thanks to Axton's retelling.

He shuffled over to the edge of the machine and glanced down. Among the broken glass and pieces of Hyperion tech were stains - dark and flaking, but unmistakeable. There were two of them, one significantly larger than the other.

Lawrence knelt down by the bigger one first. He knew it belonged to Roland. Jack had shot him in the back, killing him almost instantly. At least he hadn't suffered. Not like...

He turned to the other smaller stain. This one had traces of Eridium in it that glistened even in the dim light.

He placed the tips of his fingers on the edge of the stain. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Angel."

The silence of the Bunker met his ears. It wasn't as if he expected the place to speak to him, to acknowledge his apology and accept it, but he'd be lying if some stupid, naive part of him wasn't hoping for something to happen.

He slumped back until he was leaning against the machine that had helped enslave and murder his friend. "I know we didn't part on good terms," he continued softly, "but I want you to know that I never hated you for following Jack's orders. None of us did. You," his voice broke, "y-you deserved so much better than you got and I'm so, so sorry I never got you out of there before this happened."

Realizing that there was literally no point in holding his tears back, he lowered his defenses and began to weep. Sobs and half-wails tore out of him and echoed obnoxiously in the dead space, but he made no move to censor himself. He didn't have to anymore.

His voice was hoarse and his chest was throbbing by the time his sobs transitioned into wet sniffles and hiccups, but he somehow felt lighter. He had spent years searching for answers, for closure, and while he'd gotten his answers long ago, it was only now with this final goodbye to an old friend that he felt truly satisfied.

After exiting the Bunker and ushering Axton to a safe distance away, Lawrence blew up the inside of the chamber, effectively sealing the entrance. The sight of the burning metal and rock tumbling down in front of the doorway filled his heart with a great sense of relief and, perhaps most importantly, closure.

The source of his torment was long gone. He had the ability to replace the awful memories of that man with new ones that made him want to smile instead of scream and cry and hate himself enough to want to die. He had a family now - multiple families, people across the globe that he loved and could adequately protect with powers that had, at one time, been nothing more than a burden.

He had gotten his happy ending, and goddammit, he _deserved_ it.

"Where to now, darlin'?" Axton asked him as they slowly began to make their way back down the mountain.

Lawrence let out a heavy, tired sigh. "Home," he said, flashing him a smile. "I'm ready to go home. But first, hold this."

Humming questioningly, Axton held out his hand, only to groan and turn pink when Lawrence laced their fingers together. “You’re such a dweeb,” he groused, ducking his head as his partner laughed heartily beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can always find me on tumblr! Stop in sometime to bug me about a sequel. ;)


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